


hawkeye's anatomy.

by chai_and_coffee



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Childhood Friends, Doctors AU, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Enemies, Romance, Scars, Slow Burn, edwin for later chapters, olivier+her lesbianess in future chapters, slowburn for havolina, slowburn for royai, tags to be added as story progresses, upcoming bross
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2020-09-24 14:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20360404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chai_and_coffee/pseuds/chai_and_coffee
Summary: After moving from a hospital in Briggs to Central Amestris Hospital upon the recommendation of her grandfather, Riza Hawkeye wasn't quite sure what she was expecting.That's a lie. She was expecting professionals working in one of the top notch hospitals of the nation. And sure enough, CAH delivers, along with a boatload of crazy crap, like pickle eating contests, surgery stealing, and illegal uses of on-call rooms.As she tries to navigate the waters of a new found family and a new job, Riza finds that the hardest position to fill is not that of the Chief of Neurosurgery, nor her newfound title of 'friend', but rather 'Second-in-Command' to the Chief of Surgery, Roy Mustang.Tied together by an inexplicable amount of strings, Hawkeye must make it work with her new boss, or risk losing what she's worked so hard to obtain.-Slowburn Royai, Havolina, and background Edwin.





	1. - the spark -

**Author's Note:**

> this is loosely based on grey's anatomy and a fic called may's anatomy!
> 
> i thought it would be interesting to see the dynamic of the team if they were doctors!

Riza’s keys clattered onto her coffee table, which honestly didn’t even deserve the name. Her “coffee table” was nothing more than her textbooks stacked up until they reached an appropriate height. Currently, her neurodegenerative diseases textbook reigned at the top, the glossy red cover being the recipient for any item that was small enough to be placed on it. 

Her shoes were the next thing to be expelled from her person—she kicked them off in a manner that was unlike her—before she flopped down onto the ratty beige couch that she had gotten for extremely cheap prices. She was quite sure that there had been a reason why the woman had insistently begged Riza to take the couch, and had she had more time, she would have questioned her insistence, but at the time, she had needed the piece of furniture and had been more than happy to take it out of her hands. 

A slight buzzing jolted her out her drowsy state, and after a few confused blinks, she realized that the buzzing was coming from her. Her hands slipped into her pockets and pulled her phone out, answering it without looking at the caller ID. 

“Doctor Hawkeye.” She mumbled quietly, praying that it wasn’t the hospital. If she had to go back and work, she was going to riot. 

“Riza. Sorry, are you sleeping?” It was the roughness of the sentence that clued her in to who was on the other side. The voice held the paternal concern of her grandfather, half affection and half gruffness. 

“No, no.” She said, rubbing her eyes. “I just got home. Is everything alright?” Riza asked as she sprawled across the couch in a more comfortable position, her cheek pressing into the cold screen. 

“Well, I just wanted to call to check up on you.” 

That was odd. The man never called unless there was something seriously wrong or there was something he needed. Her suspicions made her wake up a bit more, and she narrowed her eyes doubtfully, even though he couldn’t quite see her. 

“And…?” She trailed off meaningfully. 

She heard the put-out sigh quite clearly and rolled her eyes in return. 

“I’m resigning as chief of my hospital.” Came the dejected answer.

“Oh? Congratulations?” Riza responded a bit warily, considering that the man seemed deeply devoted to his work. 

“Not really. It was almost like a forced retirement. They think I’m going crazy.” It was clear by his tone that he was quite insulted, but what made Riza crack a smile was the sulky tone, one of a child’s. 

Riza didn’t know her grandfather all too well as they had only reconnected two years ago, but if there was something that she could say for certain, it was that he was most definitely not crazy. He had his eccentricities, of course, but he was not crazy. 

“That’s a shame. And you called me because?”

“The Chief of Cardio at my hospital is stepping up to assume my position. Rightfully, of course, the man’s quite a good replacement. But the spot of Neuro is vacant in the wake of my resignation, and since this is still my hospital for another two days, I wanted to offer you the position.” Her grandfather said simply. 

She blinked, considering the offer, and before she could speak up once more, he spoke again. 

“With that position, I would also be offering you the spot of interim Chief in the event that the present Chief has things to do. A second-in-command of sorts.”

She had already been allowing herself to think of a possibility where she didn’t have to deal with the absurd cases that she often caught at Briggs. Her placement had not been intentional, but Briggs had made her a damn good offer, and at that time, she had jumped at the opportunity. 

But now, sunny Central was calling her name. Lord, she could finally be in the city, with normal cases, and actually nice weather. 

She paused for a few more moments, allowing her grandfather to stew a little before answering. “I’ll pack my bags.” 

The pleased chuckle she heard from the other end was answer enough. 

** - **

It had taken her five hours to leave Briggs and land in Central. It had taken her an hour to sign away her renouncement of her apartment, three hours for the actual flight, and an hour with standard Central traffic. By the time she had slid her key into the keyhole of her new apartment,her watch read that it was 4 in the morning. 

Her grandfather had been more than kind to gift her one of his apartments, which was fully furnished. The only things that she had to unpack was her clothes and a few personal items. Riza lived a rather spartan life: there were only a few things that she didn’t part with throughout the course of her life. 

She spent the next hour quite productively, unpacking all her clothes and hanging them neatly in her closet. It was still hard to believe that she had an actual coffee table this time, with mahogany wood and a little compartment for her to put books in underneath. Her space was much, much bigger: she finally had a comfortable couch, a wide enough room with a spacious bathroom, and even a guest room! 

She was quick to iron her lab coat and the blouse and skirt that she had picked out for her first day. It was true that she would have to change into scrubs anyways, but there was no harm in trying to look professional and presentable. She wasn’t going to be one of those doctors who showed up in their sweats. 

As the faintest hints of the early morning rays peeked through her window, Riza went through the routine of her morning. Certain aspects were missing, like the five miles that she usually ran. Other aspects, such as the coffee maker, remained fairly consistent. Her Keurig had somehow survived the flight and was the only noise in the apartment as it hummed quietly in its process of churning out the bitter elixir. 

Riza was quick to take a shower, enjoying the tempered and even spray of the water. She was even grateful for the large counter space that the bathroom had to offer—though she had no use to clutter it up, more space never hurt anyone. 

As she put her hair up into a neat chignon, Riza took the time to blink at herself in the mirror. The black skirt seemed a bit short for her tastes, stopping just above the knees. She had elected to tuck in her white blouse, which was a button up top that peeled back in delicate ruffles. She wasn’t quite sure if her outfit was too plain or too showy, but she knew quite well that her thighs were going to chafe against one another, and that if she got too sweaty, the sheer fabric was going to start sticking against her skin. Her hair was another thing: it looked quite lifeless. Sure, it was twisted up neatly, but that didn’t necessarily mean that it was vibrant or full of life. 

She sighed, shaking her head at herself in the mirror. This was work, not a damn fashion show. The young woman took a steady breath, allowing her sweaty palms to slide off the un-absorbable material of her skirt, before giving herself a final once over. 

After neatly snapping the cap of her travel mug in place, throwing her lab coat to hang over one arm, and grabbing her purse, Riza was off, her feet having been wedged in a pair of shoes that were simply too tight. 

Luckily for her, the apartment was within close distance of the hospital, only a 15 minute walk. She sipped at her coffee as she weaved her way through the streets of the city, her eyes taking in landmarks and places that she wanted to visit later. As she walked, the city of Central finally began to wake up, with shopkeepers opening the rusty metal gates and beginning to set up shop. 

By the time she reached the hospital, the quiet atmosphere had melted away, and the soft chatter began rising in volume as the minutes ticked by. 

Riza stopped just in front of the hospital entrance, her amber eyes distant. She seemed to be giving herself the encouragement she needed to brave the new experience, and with a straightening of her spine, she was striding forward, through the revolving doors. 

** \-  **

Introductions were always awkward, but none could hold a candle to this one. Feeling quite like an elementary school child, Riza elected to stay quiet and muster a tight smile and wave as the receptionist, Barry, introduced her to the gathered heads of surgery. 

There was Jean Havoc, head of General, a blonde man who had surprised Riza with the cigarette sticking between his lips. This was a hospital, and he was a doctor, and he still decided to indulge in a cancer stick?

Maes Hughes was introduced as the head of Pediatrics (yes, she knew that his wife and child were cute and charming, could he please get back to work?), Rebecca Catalina the head of Plastics, Vato Falman, the new head of Cardio, and Heymans Breda, the head of Trauma. Riza was introduced to the others, but after meeting Pinako Rockbell, the head of Anesthesiology, the names and faces start to blur into one another. 

Only one person was missing, the Chief of Surgery. Apparently he (“the Colonel”, they called him) had left to discuss preliminary measures with the hospital board and would be back later on in the day. 

As soon as it was acceptable, Riza excused herself from the gathering and fled to her office, sighing a breath that she hadn’t been aware that she had been holding until the door closed behind her. 

While she hadn’t been expecting much, Riza was quick to spot the frigid welcome she received. The smiles were too tight, too forced to show genuine readiness to collaborate. They weren’t friendly, but they weren’t outright hostile either. Riza could work with that—she came to work to work, not to make friends. 

Under the pretense of settling into her office, Riza stayed within the comforting confines of the four walls, sinking into the chair behind her desk. She allowed herself only a few minutes of freedom from her shoes (torture devices, rather) before jamming her feet back into the wedges and making her way out of her office. 

With the assistance of Barry, who seemed like he was the only one who rather liked her, Riza was able to grow acquainted with the pager system and the maze-like hallways of Central Amestris Hospital. 

A quick glance at the OR schedule revealed that she had no surgeries scheduled for the day, but a glance at the mountain of paperwork that both her grandfather and the “Colonel” had left for her had her sighing for the tenth time that day. 

And so, she found herself reading and scrawling signatures on the ends of the paperwork. Only when she was finished with half of the stack did she allow herself to take a break. She swung by the Chief’s office, peeking in to see if he was there. It seemed as though he too was in the process of moving into his office. Boxes seemed to be gathering dust at one corner of the office, and the desk was sparse, not even a name plaque decorating the dark wood. 

The files that she unceremoniously dumped on his desk changed the decoration only slightly, and as quick as she entered, she left, closing the door behind her. Reluctant to make her way back to the remaining files that she had abandoned, she decided to take her lunch break. A quick twist of her wrist revealed that it was one, meaning that it as perfectly fine for her to snag something from the fridge. 

As she silently made her way into the doctor’s lounge, quiet voices made her ears perk up. She lingered near the fridge, out of sight, her hand hovering over the handle of the fridge. 

“I heard she’s the old man’s granddaughter.”

“Makes a lot of sense why he recommended her for Neuro, obvious favoritism.”

“I hope she’s actually competent. Otherwise, there are a group of fine residents who would have been perfect for that position.”

“I bet she isn’t. That’s our luck. Besides, when have you ever heard of familial favoritism actually working out? Grumman just wanted his family to continue the dynasty of ruling the hospital, so he sent her here.”

Before she could hear any more, Riza’s hands acted of their own accord, opening the fridge, snagging a bottle of water before slamming the door shut quite noisily. The sharp sound was enough to stop the gossip session, and before long, five guilty and horrified faces were peeking into the kitchen where she stood, and had heard everything. 

“Dr.Hawkeye-!” There was a chorus of her name, feigning surprise. 

“Just getting a bottle of water.” She said, holding up the cold plastic in her hands, though she and the others knew damn well that wasn’t the case. “I’ll be in the ER in the event anyone needs me, but I doubt that will be the case.” She said sharply, her eyes glinting to let them know that she had heard. Leaving the group dumbstruck behind her, the young woman spun on her heel, striding down the hallway to the ER.

It seemed like a rather slow day in the ER, which was rather good news. Riza soon lost herself in the menial tasks of sutures and simple prescriptions: there was something soothing about regular and routine procedures that she could do with her closed eyes. 

She reviewed the patient charts with a careful eye, before her eye caught on a patient—Pauli Thawne. The man appeared to be in his late fifties, and was admitted because of his worsening eyesight. She read the notes over, her eyebrow raising quizzically as she glanced over the recorded fever—it was eventually determined that Mr.Thawne’s failing eyesight was nothing short of a correlation due to his fever. The doctors had concluded that with a simple dosage of Acetaminophen, normal bodily functions should be restored. 

A deeper look at the eye scans showed a different story: Mr.Thawne had severe hyperopia, or farsightedness. And that, in her years of her practicing, had never been a symptom of a fever. 

Her finger trailed down the length of the paper to see the doctors who had signed off on the course of treatment. 

J. Havoc and K. Fuery. 

Ah. The Chiefs of General and Geriatrics themselves had signed off on this. 

Riza was quick to page the two men in question immediately. When they came skidding down the stairs, she led them into a separate room where she could question them in peace. 

“You two are trained professionals in your craft, yes?” She asked calmly. 

“I’d sure hope so.” Havoc tried to joke, but quietened at the icy glare that was sent his way. 

“Which means that you should have received an adequate amount of education to be where you are?”

This time, her question was met with a simple “Yes,” from both the men. 

“So, assuming that you two have passed seventh grade science, tell me why you two professionals forgot that correlation does not imply causation?” Riza asked. At the sight of the two men’s confused expressions, she tossed the Thawne file over. 

“Here we have a patient who was determined to have worsening eyesight due to his fever. The correlation of a fever and a worsening eyesight does not necessarily mean that the two cause one another—and therein lies your mistake.” She said, crossing her arms. “Do either of you two have a specialty in ENT?”

When the two shook their heads, now a bit too intimidated to even utter words in front of their superior, Riza smiled, completely devoid of warmth. 

“Well, I do. I’m a neurosurgeon, with a focus in the ear, nose and throat areas as well.” The ‘oh shit’ expressions that she received was truly worth it. Undeterred, she continued. “The patient you two misdiagnosed needs a presbyopic lens exchange, meaning that his lens is being destroyed from the inside out. His fever can easily be attributed to the insane amount of stress his body is going through to try and repair the damage that is being inflicted on the eyes.” She explained, her eyes narrowing. 

“Now, you two will go upstairs and apologize to Mr.Thawne for your lack of knowledge, and get him prepped in OR 1. Then you two better hope that I don’t mention this to the Chief.” She said sternly. “Oh, and one more thing. It would do you good to pass on the message to your fellow heads that I’m neither incompetent or a rug to walk on. Dismissed.” 

** \-  **

The surgery took three hours, and by the time she was done, her legs were aching and her eyes were threatening to close. 

The residents had been more than happy to scrub in with her and watch, and by the end of the surgery, she was praised for her steady hands and perfect perception. 

But she hadn’t done the surgery for the praise, and ignored most of it all. She dreaded the fact that she had to return to her office to complete the rest of the paperwork she had abandoned in favor of patrolling the ER, but she wasn’t the type to leave work pending. 

With a solid two hours doing nothing but staring at reports and signing off on a series of different measures, Riza was finally ready to go home. The young woman transferred the stack of papers to the Colonel’s desk once more, before gathering her belongings to return home. 

She caught sight of herself in one of the reflective surfaces sitting on her new desk—and she looked nothing like the version of herself she had harshly critiqued in the morning. She looked exhausted, her skirt was skewed, a few tendrils of her hair were spilling out of the bun, and her feet fucking hurt like hell. 

“Screw this hospital.” She grumbled a bit loudly, ignoring her usual inhibitions as she yanked off her wedges and carried them in her hands. Riza was quick to make an exit from her workplace, leaving 7 sheepish and guilty Chiefs who had heard her behind. 

Needless to say, the young woman wasn’t quite pleased the next morning at the prospect at having to go to her work place. It had only been one day, and already she was dreading the confrontation that was soon to ensue. She had never remembered a time where she had needed to be so blunt and brusque with any of her colleagues, and never to the point where alienation was a consequence. 

When she arrived at the hospital, the navy blue scrubs that she had been gifted yesterday were worn without a single wrinkle, her expression blank and her back rigid, as if expecting the worst. 

What she didn’t expect, however, was a casserole dish filled with lasagna, a bottle of sparkling cider, and a small bouquet of flowers. Riza also didn’t expect to see the Chiefs gathered behind the assumed gifts with smiles on their faces either. 

“We’re sorry for misjudging you.” Fuery, the one she had scolded yesterday was the first to speak up. 

“And you’ve made it clear that you’re damn good at what you do.” Havoc said, the damn cigarette between his lips once again. He yelped in pain at Catalina’s hand coming to smack the back of his neck. 

“What these idiots—including myself— mean to say, is that we’re quite sorry for the way that we treated you. And if you’ll allow us, we’d like to start again.” Catalina said smoothly, taking control of the situation. 

Riza pretended to think for a heartbeat before her face relaxed into a reassuring smile. “Starting again sounds great.” She said, her way of accepting their apology. 

“It’s time to get your Central Amestris Hospital Orientation,” Maes said, rubbing his hands together as a smile appeared on his lips. 

“Barry already showed me—“ Riza began, but was cut off by Breda’s quick head shake. 

“Not that orientation. This one is where we dish out the goods on the other doctors, the residents, the interns, all that.” Breda said with a sly grin, and it was clear that this was a pastime that the others enjoyed as well. 

They were just about to begin when their pagers were set off in a cacophany of noises. Riza glanced down and looked at the message. “Royal Blue?” She asked. She knew that most hospitals operated on a color scale to indicate a certain occurrence in the hospital, but it varied from hospital to hospital. At Briggs, a code blue meant an unresponsive patient. Never had she called it such a specific shade of blue before. 

The other Chiefs paled, all scrambling to get up out of their seats and look presentable. 

“Would someone tell me what is going on?” Riza demanded. 

“The Colonel—I mean, the Chief is here.” Falman said like it was a death sentence. 

In a manner of speaking, it was. The Chief, since his leadership role had become less and less of the friend they knew, and more like their boss. He was a man with a short temper, a fiery countenance, and dark eyes that seemed to burn holes in the recipient. 

“Thought I might find you all here. Isn’t there work you’re all supposed to be doing?” The Chief asked as he appeared in the doorway, his eyes catching on each one of his Heads of Hospital. 

“Yes, sir. Good to have you back, sir.” The doctors were quick to welcome him and step back, waiting for his report.”

Only one figure remained, and as he drew near, she saluted him crisply. 

“Morning, sir.” Riza’s voice was calm and betrayed none of the trepidation she felt at seeing _him_. 

“At ease. Morning, Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. Never thought I’d see you here.”

They shouldn't have to address each other by their former ranks: they're no longer in the military. But it's an invisible way of maintaining the distance, to conceal the pang of pain in each of their hearts. 

Havoc and Catalina exchanged a look—Hawkeye had been in the military and knew their Chief?

“You and me both.” Came the swift reply. 

“Settling in well?”

“Are you asking out of genuine curiosity or resentment?” Riza asked, her eyes steadily meeting the dark ones. 

The doctors held their breaths, waiting for the backlash to come, but it never did. 

“A mixture of both.”

“Good to know. Reports are on the desk. I’d get to it. _Sir_.” The last word, the pronunciation of his title comes out twisted, as if the bitterness caught up to her as the word slipped out of her mouth. “If you don’t mind, I’ve got a surgery to get to.” 

The others watched in shock as they watched her neatly step past their chief, the one and only Roy Mustang. Never had they seen anyone who had been so readily able to talk back to him, nevertheless defy him in that manner. 

There was only two things that the Heads of Hospital knew. One, Riza Hawkeye was nothing like she presented herself to be. Two, the scathing look that Chief Roy Mustang threw at his second-in-command’s back was a clear indication that Central Amestris Hospital might have just become a warzone. 


	2. - the rain -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The orientation is finally here! Riza gets to know the Chief Squad a bit better. 
> 
> A bit of a character intro, some insight into the nature of Royai, and setting up for a disaster hehehehhehehhe

She supposed it was a deviant from her normal schedule. After all, everything else had followed the regularity. She had woken up at four, gone out for her run, showered, dressed, and was out the door by six. 

Today’s outfit was a bit more comfortable now that she realized that she didn’t have to impress anyone, but still remained a bit constrained to the regular professional scheme. But a pantsuit and a simple blouse was nothing to complain about. 

“Morning, Theo.” She smiled that the barista of the small little coffeeshop that she had grown fond of. While her Keurig could be considered as a machine from the gods, Riza appreciated the brews that only a professional could give her. 

“Morning, Miss Hawkeye. Have a lovely day.” The dialogue and her order was the same for the past three days since she had moved to Central, and it was slowly developing into something that brought her comfort. 

With her black coffee cup scalding her palm, she set out, her steps brisk. 

But she hadn’t accounted for a small deviation, one that took place in the form of a cardboard box, an old lady, and a little scruffy pup. She had originally walked past, not minding the lady, but stopped and took a few steps back to look at the puppy. 

It had black fur and gleaming eyes, and as she stopped, it whimpered a soft sound of hello. 

“I can’t keep him. My granddaughter’s allergic.” The old lady said. “I’ll give him to you, 100 cenz.” 

Riza blinked in surprise. The lady really wanted to get rid of the puppy. She paused for a moment, wondering if she had the time and energy to spend on a new addition. 

But she was so lonely in her barren apartment, so why not? She handed the money over and reached into the box to pet the dog, who barked in joy and ran around in a circle. 

“You look like a hurricane, boy.” She said amusedly. “I guess that’ll be your namesake, Black Hayate.” She hummed, her hand scratching behind the puppy’s ears. 

With a corresponding black leash and collar, Riza and her new addition set out on their path to the hospital, and something told her that this too would become something that she was familiar with. 

Black Hayate was a good dog: as they walked, he’d only stray away for the delightful smells of food. But even then, a small whistle from Riza brought him back. When they reached the front steps of the hospital, Riza scooped the canine into her arms. 

“Shh, boy. You’ve got to be quiet. We’re not supposed to be here, hm?” She said, and bit back a giggle at the way she talked to her pet. Already she was becoming one of those pet owners. 

Hayate didn’t say anything, just squirmed slightly in her grasp as Riza walked in. She wanted to get past the reception staff before she got caught. 

No such luck. Within a few moments of her entering the lobby, she heard Barry call out to her. 

“What’s that you have there, Lieutenant?” Barry asked curiously. 

Riza sighed and made her way to the receptionist. “I just got a dog today, well, right now, and didn’t want to take him back to the apartment to be alone. So he’s here.” 

“I’ll keep quiet if you let me say hi and give him treats later on!” Barry said enthusiastically, and Riza had to refrain from cracking a smile. 

“Deal.” The two shook hands, and soon, Riza was on her way up to her office. 

She couldn’t get there, though, as Hughes caught her and tugged her into the staff lounge with the promise of “Orientation!” 

Riza was ushered into a chair, and stifled a laugh at the Chiefs gathered all around her, ready to dole out the gossip. 

“So, welcome to Orientation.” Falman was the first to speak. “It’s an initiation process, so don’t bother trying to get out of it.”

Hayate barked, and Riza pursed her lips together. Did they hear it—?

Apparently not, seeing how Hughes went on. “Essentially, we’ll give you a run down on all the staff and people here in the hospital.”

Another bark sounded, and Riza winced. That one had been a bit too noticeable. 

“Sorry, but do you have a dog?!” Fuery blinked, his eyes trained on her labcoat. 

“His name’s Black Hayate.” Riza moved her lab coat aside to show the mischievous puppy who had blown her cover. At Fuery’s eyes widening in joy, Riza handed him the puppy. The Chief of Geriatrics’ attention was immediately captured, and he lavished the puppy in small kisses and strokes. 

“So why exactly did you get a dog?” Rebecca asked with a tilt of her head. 

“Well, my apartment’s a bit lonely and barren. I saw him on the way to work, and the previous lady seemed pretty insistent on her need to get rid of him. So why not? A stray adopting a stray.”

Rebecca took pause at her answer, before perking up. “Well, don’t be lonely! Let’s have a little gathering today at your place. We can get to know each other in a more informal setting. Also, I’m going to start setting you up on dates, let’s find someone to warm your bed.”

Riza opened her mouth to protest, but Havoc shook his head. “Don’t bother. When she’s onto something, she won’t let it go. It’s easier just to say yes.”

Amused, Riza turned to the woman and just nodded her assent, and slightly winced at the ear-shattering squeal she got in response. 

“Can we start orientation now? I have good gossip on one of the interns.” Breda grumbled, banging his fist on the table like a judge. 

“Oh, right, right, right.” Hughes pushed his glasses up from where they had become slightly askew (apparently puppies were fascinated with glasses). “So, my wife, Gracia Hughes, is a nurse, she works on the fourth floor. She’s absolutely the most gorgeous woman that I’ve seen, and we have a little girl named Elicia—she’s so cute too!” The man squealed, and it was clear that he was obviously enchanted by both his wife and daughter. It was cute to see, it wasn’t every day that someone was so outwardly devoted to their family. 

“You already told her about that, Hughes, on the first day too. So we have two higher level residents, both in their fourth year. Zampano and Jerso are absolutely wonderful to work with, they’re willing to learn. If you need anything and we’re not there, ask them. Jerso should have been an attending by now, but he went through a bit of a rough patch a while ago. They’re best friends and their wives are like sisters, and they’re mostly inseparable. It’s not clear what they’re going to specialize in, but we have bets that they’ll stay here for their fellowship.” Falman relayed. 

“We have a few other residents too, but they either work with Zampano and Jerso closely or very rarely with us.” Havoc said with a shrug. “Now for the interns. There’s Than, Maria, Denny and Kimblee.”

“He’s leaving one out,” interrupted Breda. “He’s forgetting Solaris because of what she did.”

“What did she do?” Riza asked with a tilt of her head. 

“Solaris…has a history of sleeping to get to the top. Our good man Jean Havoc didn’t really use his brain, and became a fly in her web. He gets grumpy when he sees her, and doesn’t like us talking about it.” Breda explained. 

“I was used!” Havoc protested. 

“No, you weren’t. You were a willing participant.” Fuery looked up from the puppy who had snuggled up to him and shook his head, before returning to have his full attention captured by the canine. 

Riza nodded to convey that she had understood, but out of the corner of her eye, saw that Rebecca’s lips had pressed together in a thin line. Hm. She’d have to ask a bit later. 

“Maria Ross and Denny Brosh are pretty good interns. Don’t get me wrong, they still don’t know what they’re doing, but they’re quick learners and eager to please.” Falman interjected, clearly proud of the interns. 

“Than is a good intern too. He acts pretty arrogant and comes off weird at times, but he’s good with kids. They call him Greed, for some reason. Anyways, he’s thinking about going into pediatrics, and I approve.” Hughes said, leaning back in his chair. 

“Kimblee is…not the same. His parents had a considerable amount of money and his acceptance of the hospital hinges solely on the fat stacks his family contributed.” Rebecca shook her head in disgust. “Mustang’s just waiting for him to slip up and do something wrong to fire him.” 

As the Chief’s name was mentioned, the group grew silent, scowls passing over them like a dark cloud. Riza made a mental note to ask them about their relationship with the Chief—there had to be some kind of backstory there. 

Before she could answer, her pager beeped. She glanced down, and a soft laugh came to her lips. “Speak of the devil. The Colonel is paging me. I should go. If Barry comes to see the dog, let him.” She said as she stood up, ready to make her way out of the lounge. 

“We’ll take care of him in shifts!” Fuery said enthusiastically. 

“Don’t forget our little gathering tonight! I’ll be by to ask your preference in dates!” Rebecca called after her. 

When Riza reached the Colonel, he was standing in front of a few scans, highlighted by the light behind them. 

“Sir, you paged me?” She asked, then stepped forward to see the scans properly. “Is that—?”

“A brain lesion, yes.” He responded quietly. She recognized the tone—he was lost in thought. She moved to grab the case file next to him, but he waved her off. 

“Dolores Dahlia. 74. Married to a husband who wants to see her better. Suffered a massive stroke six months ago, has a massive brain lesion in her Broca’s area, affecting speech.” The Chief began, his voice smooth and controlled. “Came to us complaining of heart pain. We realize that the stress on her brain had hurt her heart as well, causing an arrhythmia.” He paused before turning to her, capturing her eyes with his dark ones. 

A part of her wanted to bristle, raise an eyebrow challengingly. Another part of her stuttered at his heavy gaze, the way a teenage girl might have done. Her eyes were rather impassive, meeting his gaze evenly. 

“I want you there, monitoring her brain when I put in a pacemaker.” He studied her face, looking for an expression, but found nothing. 

“Of course, sir. When is the surgery scheduled?” She asked. 

“In a few hours. I want to get the pacemaker as soon as possible. An irregular heartbeat is nothing to trifle with.” He turned back to the scans. It should have been a regularly easy procedure, but Riza could understand why he was approaching this with caution. With so much stress placed on her important organs, their priority should be to minimize damage.

She saw the clear clench of his jaw as he yanked one of the scans down and studied it. She took that as her cue to leave, slipping out the door. Once upon a time, she might have offered him a word of comfort, a squeeze of his shoulder, but they weren’t like that anymore. They’d never be. 

It didn’t take her long to locate the OR board listing all the surgeries. She penned her name next to his in her neat script, before heading to her office. 

It didn’t surprise her that Fuery and Rebecca were sprawled on the ground, playing with Black Hayate, who abandoned the other two and ran to her when she appeared. 

“Don’t you have work to be doing, Doctors Fuery and Catalina?” She asked, but her tone was teasing as she kissed the little nose and stroked the furry ears.

“Ah, call me Rebecca. Or better, Becca. And yes, but my surgery got bumped. The Colonel has a much intensive case.” The young woman answered. 

“Call me Kain! And not really, so today’s my day to spend some time with this pup.” The younger man was clearly taken by the dog, watching as it romped around the room. 

Riza stifled a laugh as she sank down into the chair behind her desk, allowing the others to sit in her office. She’d have to get a couch soon, the floor was not very comfortable. 

The door opened, and the Chief stepped through. “I’ve got the patient chart if you’d like to look at it, Doctor—is that a dog?” Mustang crouched down to gently stroke his hand through the black fur. The sight of the grumpy man finally softening was a relief to the other two Chiefs, and a source of an eye roll for Riza, who made her way around the desk and plucked the patient chart out of his hands. 

“Yes, sir. That’s mine.” She answered distractedly, flipping through. 

“Be sure to keep him out of the other portion of the hospital, Hawkeye. I didn’t know you had a dog.” He said, the puppy now curled against his chest. 

“I didn’t as of this morning.” Came the reply, short. 

“I see.” Mustang seemed to realize that he was overstepping with her cold reply, and reluctantly set the puppy down on the floor. “Well, I should leave. I have to prepare.” With that, the man left, surprising Kain and Rebecca with his lack of rebuke. 

“You’re magical.” Kain said in awe of Riza. 

“If it had been anyone else, he would have shouted at them left and right.” Rebecca said with a shake of her head. 

“That’s not true. He would have hid the puppy and refused to do his work to play with it before…well you know.” Kain countered, to which Rebecca ceded with a sigh. 

Riza watched the interaction with a raised brow. “You two will have to explain that later, but I’m needed for a consult.” 

** - **

She didn’t get to ask them for the rest of the workday. She had to consult on a boy who had a minor concussion from playing too roughly, help one of the interns with a stitch, and before she could go back up to her office, it was time for the surgery with Mrs.Dahlia. She made her way to the patient’s room, and found Mustang already there. 

“Here she is. Dolores and Vincent, this is Doctor Hawkeye. She’s one of the finest neurosurgeons in all of Amestris.” Mustang said. Hawkeye managed a comforting smile at the two, who waved at her, before snapping her eyes to Mustang. He didn’t notice, of course, but her gaze burned—he praised her so highly. 

“I’m going to go to the OR and make sure everything is ready. Doctor Hawkeye will run over the procedure with you and escort you to the OR, okay?” Mustang squeezed the woman’s hand gently, and the action was so sweet that Riza felt a small pang in her heart.

She ignored it and returned the small nod as Mustang slipped out past her, understanding her cue. “Hello, Dolores. Doctor Mustang may have told you about this, but we’re going to run through this again.” She said quietly, her voice calm. “We’re going to make a small incision above your heart and insert a small device, called a pacemaker, to regulate your heartbeat. I’ll be there, watching over your brain. If you start experiencing stress, we’ll pull you out.”

“She’ll be fine, right?” Vincent Dahlia asked nervously, clutching onto his wife’s hand. “I read that it was an easy procedure.”

“Vincent…” Came the reprimanding tone of his voice. “They’ll…d-do…e-everything…t-they..can…” Her voice was small and slow because of the damage sustained to her brain, but both doctor and husband could understand. “R-r-right…d-dear?” Her gaze swiveled to Riza. 

“Of course, Mrs.Dahlia.” She reassured. 

“I’ll…be…f-fine…” The woman murmured. “I…l-love…y-you, Vin.” 

Her husband stroked her hair back, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “And I love you. Now let me go make sure that young man does what he’s supposed to.” He made his way out of the patient room. 

Riza nodded at the team of nurses waiting to unlock the beds and transfer the woman to the OR. 

“D-d-don’t…l-let…h-him…g-go.” The weak voice came from the woman, drawing Riza’s attention. 

“Pardon?” The doctor asked. 

“R-r-roy. H-h-he’s a g-good m-man.” 

Not in the mood to antagonize a patient, Riza nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

A hand darted out quicker than she had expected and grabbed hers, allowing a soft squeeze. “T-tell m-my…h-husband t-that…I l-love…him.” 

“I will, ma’am.” Riza promised. 

That command stayed with her the entire time throughout the walk to the OR, even when she was scrubbing her hands. Riza wasn’t necessarily superstitious but she had seen patients with a particular premonition. 

For Mrs.Dahlia’s husband’s sake, Riza hoped she was wrong. 

The surgery began smoothly. Riza assumed her position at the patient’s head, her eyes trained on the monitors. Mustang took a breath before lifting his scalpel, and soon, the first cut was made. 

Everything seemed to be okay. Her brain function stayed at a constant, Mustang’s actions were precise and neat, and there wasn’t a single cut that he made that wasn’t purposeful. 

As the clock read an hour, Mustang announced that the pacemaker had been placed. From there, there was only a few sutures that had to be made before the cut could be entirely closed up. 

Mustang had stepped away for a moment to ask for more suction when Riza’s eyes widened. “She’s losing function!” She called out. 

Mustang’s eyes widened for a moment before his hands went back in the body cavity, gloves searching. “There’s no signs of bleeders, the heart is pumping—!” He said. 

“Loss of frontal lobe, sir.” She called out, her eyes glued to the screen. 

The thalamus, hippocampus, cerebellum were soon to follow, but Riza didn’t announce the loss of those. She simply watched the screen, waiting. 

There. As a portion of the light representing the brain considerably dimmed, she knew the battle had been lost. “Cerebrum and cortex is gone, sir.” She said softly. 

Her heart was on its way to giving out—Roy had resorted to manually pumping. 

“Sir—“ 

“No, Hawkeye.”

“Sir, she’s gone.”

“I can’t—“

“Call it.” 

He paused, his shoulders curling in, sighing. “Time of death, 17:47. Close up here.” 

Riza followed him quietly as he left the operating theater to wash his hands and scrub out. She didn’t say a word, waiting for him to speak. 

It was clear that he wasn’t taking it too well, based on the way he aggressively scrubbed at his hands. “What happened?”

“Her body failed.” Riza answered simply. “She wasn’t strong enough, sir. Pull yourself together. We’ve got to tell her husband.”

Mustang stiffened, before nodding once. 

She had always wondered why someone like him had even joined the medical field—he was always more empathetic, more likely to get attached. This was not the profession one chose for emotional connection. 

The delivery went as expected. Vincent had fallen into a state of shock, distraught. Riza watched, a few steps behind, as the man fell apart in Roy’s arms, sobbing at the loss of his wife. 

** - **

Riza was in no mood to party after her encounter with the Dahlia family, but Rebecca had put so much thought and time that she felt foolish to decline the offer. So she clambered into Breda’s car along with Becca, Havoc,Hughes and Fuery. Falman was taking his own car with Zampano, Jerso, Ross and Brosh Originally, it had been a no intern zone, but Becca apparently had a soft spot for the two interns, so that when they had asked, she had allowed them to tag along. 

With the spirited woman’s guidance, the group picked up the appropriate snacks and everything needed for the night before making their way to Riza’s apartment. 

For once, the apartment seemed lively. Everyone gathered in the living room. The pizza they had ordered was almost done with, and Riza was quite glad that the group was making their way through the copious amounts of desert and snacks they had purchased. The group was also quite buzzed, based on the four bottles of empty booze that sat on her kitchen counter. 

“Alright, everyone! Let’s give our woman of the hour a few questions! Madam Riza, you have a few rules. If you choose not to answer, you can take a shot. However, all your answers must be truthful. We shall play one round!” Havoc said. 

Riza laughed from where she sat sandwiched between Maria Ross and Rebecca. “Bring it.”

Fuery was the first to go. “Um…favorite color?” He asked. 

Riza smiled at his innocence, while Breda groaned at the lack of a hard-hitting question. 

“Green.”

“Your preference in men?” that was Rebecca’s question, obviously, who despite having drank quite a bit, had persevered to her task of setting Riza up. 

“Taller than me, even in heels. Good personality. Mature. Oh, and dark hair and nice eyes. I have a thing for that.” Riza replied honestly. 

Havoc was the next to go. “Favorite sex position?” He asked her, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Riza drank a shot on that one. 

“Hidden talent?” Maria Ross asked with a tilt of her head. The intern had been a pleasant addition to the night, not at all what Riza had expected her to be. 

“I can hit all my marks perfectly.” She said, and that had spurred a ten minute side conversation, where she had been asked to hit a serious of objects at various distances. When she hit a small shot glass with a grape from two rooms away, it was clear that she was speaking the truth. 

Falman asked next. “Last person you slept with.”

How was she supposed to answer that one? She drank on that one as well.

“Let’s see…guilty pleasure?” Breda asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

“Drinking after a long, hard day.” Came the response, and it was clear by Breda’s heavy sigh that her answer hadn’t been the one he had been looking for. 

“Favorite meal?” Brosh was an intern as well, and based on his innocent question (in comparison with the others’) he was kind as well. 

“Pad Thai, with Thai Iced Tea.” She murmured the foreign delicacy. 

Zampano and Jerso had asked about her childhood, which she had drank a shot on, leaving Hughes to ask a question. His wife had been invited as well, but for the sake of her child, she had politely declined and sent her husband in her presence. 

“What’s your history with Roy?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. It was clear to see that the alcohol hadn’t affected him much as well, as he met her gaze evenly. He suspected something…

“That’s a very, very long story, one that I’ll save for a time when we aren’t drunk.” She said simply. Hughes seemed quite satisfied with that answer and sank back down. 

Riza, however, wasn’t quite done. She leaned forward. “I have a question for you all. What is up with you and the Colonel? You all seem quite scared of him.”

Havoc swore under his breath and reached for the bottle, but Rebecca intercepted him and snatched it away from him, handing it to Zampano, who dutifully clutched onto it. 

“You see…he wasn’t like this.” Maria said quietly. “I’ve only been at this hospital for a little bit, but even I can attest to that. Maybe someone else could shed some more light on the Chief.”

Hughes leaned forward. “Well, I’m his best friend, but as of late, it doesn’t really feel like it. Trust me, Hawkeye, he wasn’t always this grumpy. He was always a fun and happy person within the hospital. He was constantly pulling pranks, checking up on us, making sure that each one of us was alright. He was that way even when he was Chief of Cardio. Then the day after he was appointed Chief of Surgery, things changed. He became a withdrawn, grumpy. Any attempt to cheer him up didn’t quite work.”

“And believe me, we tried. We once even offered to get him a stripper, and he asked us to get us out of his office.” Breda sighed. 

“He’s not opening up, so we’ve decided to let him be for the moment.” Falman interjected. 

Riza nodded, mulling over the information. After a question from Zampano, the lively conversation arose once more. 

As the hours ticked by, the group started to dwindle. Ross and Brosh left early, with Hughes following them. Zampano and Jerso, left, accompanied by Breda and Falman. 

Soon, the only two left in her apartment was Havoc (who insisted she call him Jean) and Rebecca.

But soon, even those two left, leaving Riza alone with Hayate. The puppy, drowsy with affection, had curled up on her bed. She smiled at the form of the canine, and decided that she’d disturb him later. She sipped at her wine, tilting her head back to empty the last of the liquid in her mouth. Her mind was occupied, and she mulled over the information about Mustang to the soft patter of rain outside. 

In an impulsive surge upwards, Riza grabbed her keys, her coat, and an umbrella. The 15 minute walk to the hospital seemed shorter, but quite possibly it was due to her intoxication, or even her fast pace. Maybe even both. 

** - **

Roy Mustang was tired, irritated, and craved the solace of his bed, though he knew that sleep would not come easily. He hadn’t realized that the rain was falling outside, and dreaded the fact that he hadn’t taken an umbrella with him before leaving his apartment. 

He drew the lapels of his coat a bit closer to him in an attempt to preserve warmth and protect him from the falling moisture. 

He hurried down the steps, not wanting to linger outside for too long, before a pair of eyes caught his attention. 

There, standing under the lamppost, was the owner of a pair of chestnut eyes that he knew quite intimately. Under the light, she glowed with a celestial kind of beauty.She held a dark umbrella and looked at him, not one ounce of expression on her face. He made his way over to her, ducking to stand under the haven of her umbrella, looking down at her. 

They were exceptionally close: he could smell the faint traces of cinnamon and almond, the vanilla odors of her perfume. He could lean forward and capture her lips without any effort. 

The handle of the umbrella was pressed into his hand, and his muse, the goddess of his dreams, walked away from him, the rain circling around her. 

It wasn’t until he made it home and the tangible evidence of the umbrella was in his hands did he realize that Riza Hawkeye hadn’t been the apparition he had thought she was. 

His resulting thought was that he should have chased after her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you thought! comments inspire me to write the next chapter, truly. thank you for everyone who left a comment on the last chapter. 
> 
> if you read this far, comment something that lets me know if i should make a side tumblr blog for this work hehe
> 
> drop a kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> follow me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


	3. -the dramophone-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey homies, the phone's ringing
> 
> which phone?
> 
> the dramophone!
> 
> -  
good RizBecca bonding, Havolina background, and a fight, teehee!

Legally, she’s not allowed to stay at the hospital working for so long, and she’s pretty sure she crossed the border into seriously-illegal three hours ago. But her surgeries and consults had piled up, and the past two days had been spent working non-stop. 

Riza rubbed at her eyes, despite knowing better. Her head felt so heavy, her eyelids drooping, and her sneakers scuffed along the floor of the hospital, slightly squeaking here and there when she forgot to pick up her feet and walk. She knew that she could trip at any moment, but she was simply too tired to care. 

Her shoulder knocked into someone else, and Riza mumbled a soft sorry as she opened her eyes. Dr.Breda’s sympathetic orbs met hers. 

“Late shift, huh? Heading to go get some sleep?” Breda asked, and Riza noticed a peculiar expression take root on his face, though in her fatigue, she couldn’t identify it. “You should snag that on-call room, it’s the closest.” The doctor pointed with the end of his pen to a door only a few steps away from Riza. 

As Riza stepped away, Breda’s hand reached out and grabbed Fuery and Falman, who were on their way to get some well-deserved rest as well. Fuery didn’t realize that his pursuits had been stopped, and the only noise that Falman made was a questioning grunt. 

The three men watched as Riza turned the knob. 

The blond haired woman stepped inside the on-call room, flicking on the light tiredly, before she paused, looking at the scene in front of her with wide eyes. 

With scrubs littering the floor, rumpled with wrinkles, Rebecca Catalina and Jean Havoc were in the same bed….and very much in the middle of intercourse. 

Riza blinked for a moment, before slapping a hand over her eyes, and immediately backtracking, yanking the door shut behind her. Breda, on the other hand, was doubled over in laughter, palm up to Fuery. 

“Goddamn it! I didn’t bet that they’d get together in three weeks!” Fuery was shaking his head, adamant. 

Falman seemed more awake and shook his head at the younger man. “You did, actually.”

Riza noticed the interaction but was simply too tired to comment on it, and instead trudged away. She was going to have to go sleep in her office, seeing how the on-call rooms were being used for…other things. 

Her hand managed to find the doorknob, and she let herself in, quietly closing the door behind her. She managed to flop on the couch that adorned one side of the room, curling on her side. As her eyes drifted closed, she swore she heard a soft, amused chuckle. 

A hand gently brushed back the strands of her hair as the inky oblivion claimed her. 

When she blinks her eyes open, she’s a bit disoriented as to where she is. This isn’t her office, she doesn’t have a couch and she certainly doesn’t have a lamp in the corner. She shifts slightly and realizes that a blanket has been put over her, one that she didn’t remember grabbing. 

Riza sat up, her eyes widening. Is this—no. This can’t be. She pushed herself up and darted over to the door, opening it quickly to see the name plaque hanging on the dark wood. She isn’t surprised when the name on the plaque isn’t hers, but rather another familiar name: 

> ** Doctor Roy Mustang **

Her eyes drifted to a piece of paper taped below, reading in a familiar messy scrawl:

> _ The Lieutenant is sleeping. If anyone of you wakes her up, I’ll make sure you don’t get to open your eyes to see tomorrow. I’m at a meeting, I should be gone for the major part of the day.  _

As much as she tried to resist, a corner of her mouth quirked up into a small grin at the sign. Typical Mustang, being too bossy and threatening bodily harm at the same time. Riza closed the door behind her, heading back to the couch. Once she was draped under the blanket, she pondered her next course of action: she could stay there and waste the day away with his absence, or even take another nap. 

Of course, her musings were interrupted as the door swung open, with one Dr.Catalina marching in. “Matchstick, I have your—“ She announced, triumphantly waving a few files in her hand before she realized that the “Matchstick” was indeed not there. 

Her eyes widened comically as her head swiveled to meet Riza’s steady gaze. 

“Doctor Hawkeye—“ Rebecca began, and if the pink on her cheeks was any indication, she was clearly flustered. “Listen—I…about what you saw last night in the on-call room—“ She began, but Riza was faster. 

“Come sit next to me and let’s talk about it.” Riza patted the spot next to her before getting up. 

Rebecca, now curled up one end of the couch, blinked at her friend. “Where are you going?” She asked, her dark eyes tracking the blonde as she crouched behind Mustang’s desk. The sound of a drawer opening could be heard, with subsequent rummaging. 

“I know he snacks when he works. Where is it—aha!” Riza held up his stash of snacks. “There. This conversation would be better with chocolate and some chips, right?” She asked with a grin. 

That comment should have gotten a lighthearted remark from the other woman, but based on the way that Rebecca couldn’t even muster a smile was indication enough of her fear. 

Once both women were situated under the blanket, Rebecca began speaking once again, only taking a few pauses to nibble at the chocolate that Riza had stolen from their Chief. 

“So…Havoc and I…I didn’t know him until we were both selected to be Chiefs, and…well he’s really charming, you know? In a rugged, country boy sort of way. And he has this reputation of…being a ladies man, and Mustang already warned me ahead of time, but still…we got closer, to the point of being really good friends, and one night I sort of….fell into his bed.” Rebecca sighed. “And…I know that we agreed that it was a thing to blow off steam, but it’s hard not to fall in love with him when he checks up on you in the middle of the day, asking if you’re sore.” A small smile grew on the brunette’s face as she thought about the man who had stolen her heart. 

Riza, on the other hand, decided that it was enough eating, considering that last detail made her want to retch. The last thing she needed was a visual of her colleagues going at it like rabbits. “So why don’t you tell him, then?”

Rebecca’s breath caught, and in a moment of vulnerability that was rare for the high-spirited woman, she leaned over, resting her head on Riza’s shoulder. “Because…he doesn’t like commitment with anyone else. So why is he going to like it with me?” She asked quietly. 

“I don’t know about you, but if I had a fling with someone, I definitely wouldn’t really care to ask if they were sore or not later on in the day. Actually, I wouldn’t have a continued fling at all, but that’s besides the point.” Riza pointed out, her head coming to rest on her friend’s. 

“That’s true.” 

“Why don’t you just….let me take care of it?”

“Really?! What are you going to do?!”

“You have much to learn, grasshopper. Stand back and let the sensei take care of it.” 

If the squeal was anything to measure by, Riza could tell that her friend was overjoyed at her response. A heartbeat of silence passed by the two women, broken only by a loud yawn coming from Becca. 

“Didn’t sleep well?” Asked Riza, who felt her eyes beginning to close as well, despite the siesta she had taken earlier. 

“No, my neighbors are so, so loud. My lease is expiring soon, and I think I’m going to let it lapse, considering that my neighbors have zero consideration for the other people in the complex. I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep when I’m at my own place.” Rebecca complained, shaking her head. 

Riza paused, before mulling over that fact. “Well…I do have an extra room that I was planning to rent out….”

“You’d do that for me?!”

“Of course. We’re friends, aren’t we? I’m fine with it as long as I don’t find weird voodoo dolls in the living room.”

“We’re best friends now! And psh, I practice satanism.” The two ladies laughed, the warmth of something new and solid curling in their chests. 

They were interrupted by the door opening with the actual owner of the office running in. Roy Mustang’s surprise only lasted for a moment when he saw that Riza and Rebecca were sprawled on his couch together before he turned back to his desk. “I needed a few files. The good snacks and drinks are hidden in the back left corner tile. If I keep it in the drawers, Havoc eats it all.” He said with a small smile, before snagging the file he desired and leaving them alone in the office once again. 

If it didn’t escape Becca’s eye that Mustang had been talking to both of them, yet his eyes had been focused on the blond sitting next to her, she didn’t show it or remark on it. 

That was a lie, she asked as soon as she could.

“So, you and the Chief, huh?” Becca asked, her eyebrows wiggling. Riza opened her mouth to protest, but the other cut her off. “Don’t even bother trying to hide it, you two have some history.”

“History, yes, but that’s all in the past. I don’t have a man in my life, except Black Hayate.”

Becca’s nose wrinkled. “Your dog is super cute and all, but I still can’t believe you named him that mouthful of a name.” She sighed. “Besides, you’re really not going to give any juicy tidbits on you and the man of Amestris?”

Riza paused, tilting her head at the title. “What did you call him?”

“The man of Amestris. Almost everyone prefers to get sick and come here so they can get a chance to see him.” Becca rolled her eyes. “I prefer blondes, really.”

Riza nudged her with a roll of her eyes. “You also like idiots. Any man who’s a doctor and smokes needs to get reevaluated.”

“Shut up!” Becca scowled, but she was grinning. “Maybe I’m morosexual. Y’know, attracted to morons. Anyways, you didn’t answer my question!”

“It’s really, really long. And besides, nothing ever happened between us. We used to know each other back in the day, I worked under him in the military. That’s it.” Riza said, her lips pressing together as if to accentuate the finality of the situation. 

“And you’re sure you weren’t ever _under_ him?” Becca asked, and rubbed the spot where her friend’s hand came to smack her. “Ow, okay, okay, crazy lady. Fine. If the Chief isn’t who’s occupying your nights, it’s my right as a best friend to set you up.” 

Eh. Why not? It wasn’t like her nights were filled with anything too exciting, unless you counted surgeries. Besides, if she didn’t like them, then she could always just say no for a second date. “Nothing too crazy, and no one too clingy.” Riza permitted, then winced as her friend’s resounding cheer threatened to burst her ears. 

Now, Rebecca Catalina was a smart woman. She knew damn well that if she set Riza up with someone, she’d get some kind of reaction from Mustang and a rejection from Riza herself. But the idiots were being idiots, and she needed to meddle to uncover what really happened between them. 

She reached over, grabbing her phone, and for a few moments, all that was heard was the soft sounds of her nails tapping against the glass. “Done! I have a date for you tonight. Wear something sexy, Raven will pick you up tonight at the front of the hospital by seven.” 

By the way her best friend looked startled, Rebecca sighed. “Don’t tell me you don’t own anything other than casual wear and scrubs.”

“I’d be lying.”

“Check your desk in a few hours. I’ll ask Jean to go snag something from my apartment.”

“Jean?”

“The man has excellent taste, don’t judge me.” 

Becca snagged Riza right at six, when the latter was trying to sneak off into a surgery to be unavailable for her date. With twenty minutes dedicated Riza actually getting dressed, the other forty was them fooling around and getting off task. Luckily for Riza, Jean had foreseen her taste and had picked out a simple black cocktail dress that was as simple as it was alluring. Both women had nodded in appreciation when she had donned it. 

“Be nice, try to have fun. Just think of this as a different night out.” Becca instructed as she gently swiped the chapstick over her best friend’s lips. Lipstick was something that could be pulled out for a later event, and both women had forgotten about gloss. 

“Don’t go kissing your smoker boy at midnight, try to actually do some work.” Riza teased, and with a brief hug, the woman was off. 

Admittedly, it was kind of boring once she was gone, and Becca had contemplated multiple times whether or not to snag Havoc for a round. 

As she was just about to start down on a hallway to find the man who occupied her thoughts, another voice distracted her. “Hey, Dr.Catalina. Have you seen Dr.Hawkeye?”

Becca’s eyes met Mustang’s, and the man didn’t quite feel comfortable with the way the woman’s lips quirked into a smirk. 

“She left for the night, boss. She’s on a date.” Becca said, her eyes trained on him. She didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched slightly, or the way his fingers curled into a fist. 

“Hm. Well, good night.” Mustang said, stepping swiftly past her. 

-

There isn’t anything particularly different about the way Riza walked into the hospital—but maybe it was simply the feeling of a new day. She bade Barry hello as she usually did, made her way up to the lounge, feeling comfortable within the regular cycle of her routine. 

“Morning, Hawkeye.” Breda greeted from where he was sitting with the others.

“Morning. Are you four the boys I should go to when making a bet?” Riza raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, all the Chiefs are involved in a bet of some sorts with each other.” Hughes supplied. “Falman here is the one who keeps track of everything. He never forgets. Like, I have a bet withHavoc about….well, you and Roy.” The man said with a grin, and had she not been intent on her original mission, she would have dragged that man aside and threatened to court martial him. 

“I see. Well, I have a bet for you three.” Riza began. 

Breda set down his phone and leaned forward. “I’m listening.”

“Fifty on the 29th of this month, that Jean Havoc and Rebecca Catalina will go steady.” Riza said, crossing her arms. 

Breda’s eyes widened, and he tilted his head back laughing. “I like those odds! I’m in. I say they won’t be together by then. Fuery and Hughes, are you two in?”

“I’ll bet that they’re sleeping together on the 29th, but not yet a couple.” Fuery grinned. 

“I’m in too, I’ll say that they’ll go steady a month after this month.” Hughes grinned. 

“Wow, you sure about entering the pool, Hughes? You lost $550 last round.” Falman said, surprised. 

“I’m a sucker when it comes to love!” Hughes protested. “And besides, I’m feeling good about this one!” He said, rubbing his hand together deviously. 

Riza laughed and waved goodbye to her colleagues. She supposed she should feel bad about betting on her friends, but she was confident in her promise. Besides, who ever said that a little money acquisition was bad?

“Hey, Hawkeye.” The tone of Roy Mustang’s voice made her stop for a moment, barely holding back a sigh.

“Yes, sir?”

“I have a patient today, and it’s along the same lines of the Dahlia case.”

“I’m guessing you need me to supervise?  


“That would be preferrable. I’ll page you when it’s time. How was your date yesterday?”

The last question made her freeze, her body’s muscles tightening up for a moment, and she inwardly cursed herself for not telling Becca to keep her mouth shut. 

“Lovely. Now, if you’ll excuse me—“ She didn’t give him any room to argue as she stepped past him, leaving him staring after her with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Hey there, Riz. How was your date yesterday?” Becca asked, as soon as Riza stepped into her office. 

Riza glared at the woman who was nonchalantly sitting at a desk that was not hers, shaking her head. “It was fine, I suppose. He was rather boring, and he seemed to think that I would sleep with him on the first date. You want to tell me why the Chief knows about my date?”

Becca blinked, the picture of innocence, but it wasn’t enough to fool Riza. “He asked, and I didn’t want to lie…”

“You could have just told him that I left for the night.”

“Are you actually mad at me for telling him, or are you mad at something else?” Damn. She should have realize that was Becca was more perceptive than she seemed. 

“I just—Mustang wants me to scrub in on a surgery with him, but he only wants me to monitor the brain. I don’t do a single minute of actual surgery, which irritates me. I could be taking care of my own patients in another OR at the same time, and any resident with the same qualifications could be asked to scrub in and monitor activity. Hell, a scrub nurse could.” Riza spewed. 

“I’m sure he doesn’t—“ Becca’s explanation was cut off by a round of beeps that seemed to get louder every second that Riza answered it. After a solid thirty seconds, Becca groaned, leaning back in the chair. 

“You and I know who that is, so just answer his damn call. We’ll talk later.” Becca grumbled. Riza was halfway out the door when she peeked back in, narrowing her eyes at her best friend. “If you aren’t doing anything productive, go home and pack your things, you need to move in soon.”

The patient was a forty-year-old spinster, who had long decided that no one was going to be a part of her romantic life. Ms.Chen seemed like a soft-spoken woman, but within a few minutes of meeting her, Riza was hearing lots about her sex life. 

“I don’t need anyone to please me, honey, man or woman. I have a set of fingers and a vibrator that does its job just right.” the woman chatted. The entire conversation, Riza’s cheeks were stained a shade of pink, and if she remembered correctly, the tips of the Chief’s ears were red too. 

It was a simple coronary artery bypass graft, and once again, Riza was left wondering what the hell she was doing there. It was a cardio-based surgery, considering that the surgery was primarily meant to restore blood flow to the heart. What was the need for neuro? Sure, she had heard of studies where brain activity had seen a decrease following a CABG surgery, but it was later found that the study had no actual evidence to prove the correlation. 

Her irritation ascended another level when the patient’s brain activity didn’t dip a single percent, leaving her to stare idly at a screen when there were several patients who actually did require her assistance. 

Perhaps it was her earlier irritation, or maybe the way her feet ached, but her temper reached a boiling point a few minutes after Ms.Chen’s surgery was finished and they had scrubbed out. 

A hand grasped her elbow, gently pulling her to a stop. “There’s food in your office, you should go eat it before it’s cold.” Mustang’s voice was calm, and if she concentrated, she swore she could discern a note of concern in voice. 

With that statement, everything that she had been holding back was unleashed. Riza yanked her elbow away, her eyes flashing murderously. 

“Absolutely _not_. We’re even, you hear me? I gave you that umbrella. You let me sleep in your office. We are even. What is this, some kind of sick plot to win me over? Your food isn’t going to endear me to you, you already know what you did. Are you trying to repair what happened by using stupid cases where I do nothing but “monitor”?! I don’t want your food, I don’t want your comfort, and—!” Her tongue lashed out in a venomous strike, delivering sharp words and cutting realizations. 

He, however, wanted none of it. “_Enough_.” He cut her off, his voice glinting with repressed rage. 

She hadn’t heard his voice like that…ever, and it was so surprising that she paused in her verbal slew. 

“Doctor Hawkeye, the food in your office was delivered by Mrs.Chen before her surgery, and I forgot to tell you beforehand. If the simple task of doing your job is too much for you, then please let me know right now, I’ll be very happy to accept your resignation form. As for our relationship, please don’t flatter yourself. We’re a professional relationship. Any history that we might have shared is insignificant. And I’d like to cut this conversation off short, I have places to be.” 

“Guys,” Havoc’s tone was cautious as he cut into their argument. “You might want to take this….someplace private.”

“No need. The Chief and I are on the same page. It’s clear that he’s still the same selfish, power-hungry bastard as usual. His statements are nothing new. He’s always been a coward when it’s time to take action or face up to his consequences.” Riza spat. Though her face had been smoothed into an expressionless facade, her tone carried all the spite she wished to convey. 

She didn’t see the way his eyes flickered with something that looked like defeat or shame as she was pulled away from the man who had destroyed any semblance of trust she’d once put into him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all who left comments! it really inspired me to get this chapter ASAP, and I love your little insights! will I reveal why Roy isn't the Roy we all know and love soon? 
> 
> MMMMM maybe. 
> 
> Don't hate me for the angst in the next chapter, hehe! 
> 
> Let me know what you thought about this chapter! Comments inspire me to write more! Drop a kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> And as always, catch me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


	4. - the kicks -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter is....uh, not happy. features an active shooter situation. if this isn't your thing, skip this chapter. if the next chapter has the same themes as well, i'll include a warning for that one as well. :)
> 
> aka where shit goes down because i need a catalyst for a minor detail in the back that's gonna start a chain of events.

They weren’t wrong about it being a war zone. For the most part, Mustang and Hawkeye were able to keep their relationship professional, but the Chiefs hadn’t realized how their previous interactions had been filled with some kind of….warmth, affection, even at the minuscule levels. But now, there was none of that, just a frigid sort of chilliness that seemed to permeate the room on the off chance that either one were in the same place at the same time. 

“Brr.” Hughes had murmured when he had walked into the room when they were both together, and he truly did shiver when both shot him warning glares. 

Mustang didn’t reveal any outward expression of emotion every time he had to interact with Hawkeye and had to hear the bitter “Sir” that accompanied every statement. 

Hawkeye didn’t show any emotion either when all the spots on the OR board for his surgeries had someone else’s name, rather than hers. 

The Chiefs, for their part, were soaking this up. There was already a pool of 3,202 dollars going on, the bets centering around the fighting couple. (Havoc had thrown in two dollars, saying that he wanted to be a part of the action, but hadn’t recovered from the crippling loss that he had incurred before.) 

Riza knew all the bets, of course, Rebecca kept her in the loop during their dinners. 

“Everyone thinks that you calling him “sir” is a kink of his, and this is your way of some kind of freaky foreplay.” Rebecca had informed her from where she had been painting Riza’s toes a pretty blue. 

Riza had almost choked on her coffee—and technically, she wondered if Ro—Mustang did have a sir kink. That would…explain a lot. 

“Um, no. I’m very, very upset at him.” 

“And by the looks of it, he’s upset at you too. Come on, stop hogging the caffeine.”

The nights belonged to her new roommate, and the two had grown closer, doing menial things and getting to know each other better. Their toes were painted in complementary colors, there was a friendship bracelet sitting in each other’s drawers, and their fridge was filled with desserts that they had baked. It was nice to finally have a close friend, and Riza had to admit that things with Rebecca were easy and smooth. There was never an awkward moment between them, and they both had the same senses of humor. 

There was only one aspect where Rebecca got frustrated with Riza, and that was when the conversation turned to their Chief. 

“Come on, tell me about him.” Becca had wheedled one night, only to be shut down by the other woman with a firm look. 

Despite her craving for information about Riza and her Chief, anything discussed during their powwows remained within them, meaning that it was doubly hard for her to keep her mouth shut in the lounge, especially when she heard the others betting. Especially now. 

“I bet that they’re going to get back together via makeout.” Hughes said with a grin. 

Falman gave a nod back, then tilted his head in confusion. “Wait, that doesn’t make sense. Are you saying that they’re going to get together after they makeout?” 

Hughes snapped, pointing to him with a grin. “There you go! You understand! Oh, and Gracia says that she thanks you for the pie.”

Breda hastily interjected before Hughes and Falman could get sidetracked with their fascination with swapping recipes. “Okay, fine. We aren’t betting any money, though, right? In that case, I’d bet that she’d rather castrate him than let him kiss her.” 

Hughes’ green eyes widened considerably behind his frames, before the man launched off his chair and sprinted down the hallway. 

“Is he going to warn Mustang?” Fuery giggled quietly, looking up from his work. 

-

It took Hughes fifteen minutes to locate Riza, who was standing in the scan room, looking at a patient’s EEG and MRI scans. 

“Don’t castrate him.” Hughes blurted out immediately, then silently cursed Breda for the notion that Roy’s junk might be impaired as a consequence of his fight with Riza. 

“Hughes?” Riza turned, her eyes widening. 

Hughes gently shut the door closed, before repeating his earlier statement. “Don’t castrate him, you might have use for it later.” 

“Hughes.” Her tone was reprimanding, and if he didn’t know better, he would have said that there was a subtle tone of amusement.

He waved her off as though they were talking about a minor inconvenience. “I know, I know, I’m meddling, but look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m wrong,” He paused, then thought better, and before she had the chance to open her mouth, he barreled on. “You can’t. See? Just remember that since he’s become Chief, your interactions with him have been the only times we’ve seen a bit of our old Roy. Do what you will with that information.” Hughes said, and in a fluid motion, Riza was crushed against the man in a hug. 

“Hughes—“ Riza squeaked from within the confines of his embrace. 

“Enough of this Hughes business. Call me Maes. We’re friends. Come have dinner with me and my family soon. I have a little girl, she’s so cute! I have a picture here—“ The man let go of the startled woman to pat his pockets, and truly looked dejected when nothing came up. “Darn, this must be a different coat then. Anyways, bring Rebecca too. It will be fun.” Hughes grumbled when his pager went off in a round of beeps. “Remember what I said about Roy’s junk! Have fun!” He said cheerily, waving over his shoulder as he slipped out of the room, leaving her alone in the company of brain scans. 

Riza looked after the meddling man, a small smile teasing at her lips, and she shook her head in mock exasperation before turning back to the scans. Her smile melted away, and she leaned up on her toes to make sure she was right. 

She was. She wished she wasn’t. There, encroaching on the left eye was a tumor on the optic glioma. If they didn’t operate quickly, there would be a chance of blindness. 

Riza pressed her phone to her ear, rushing out of the scan room. “Izumi—can you book OR 2 for me and ask Lee to be admitted in? Rush this, please, it’s a priority.” She ordered the nurse as she took down the hallway. 

-

They say that the hospital is meant to be a place of sanctity, a place where life and death join in a circle that has no beginning or no end, a place where science is revered as much as the cold instruments lying on a table are. They say that the hospital is full of parallels, a walking contradiction. 

And for once, Central Amestris Hospital wished that whoever had said that had been painfully wrong. 

-

Hughes hummed to himself as he reached out and pressed the button clearly marked ‘3’. Maybe he would go and bother Roy until he got kicked out, then take his wife to lunch before coming to perform his surgery. His was non-emergent anyways, and it was a good possibility that an emergent case could bump his another day. He wasn’t complaining, of course, that meant that the paperwork could be done another day. He shared that trait in particular with his best friend: both had a severe aversion to paperwork. 

It wasn’t until someone cleared their throat from behind him that did he realize that he was not alone in the elevator. 

“Excuse me, sir. Could you tell me where Dr. Hawkeye is?” 

Hughes turned to smile at the owner of the voice, but his smile quickly faded when he realized that the old man standing in the corner of the elevator had asked the question without inflection, with a demanding tone. 

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know where she is.” Hughes lied. Alarm bells began ringing in his head, and he slowly inched back to the control panel once more, hoping to hit an earlier floor. Shit, why was this elevator ride so long?!

The second his fingers grazed the button that would have called the fire station, Hughes felt a small whoosh of air leave him. The doors dinged open, right as he looked down at the blooming of blood on his pristine blue shirt, his eyes wide. Hughes crumpled to the ground, the blood flowing freely from his wound to stain the elevator floor. There was no one waiting for the elevator, and soon after the man had stepped out, the doors dinged closed again. 

He needed to—he needed to get to Roy. Roy. 

With a hand pressed to his chest, Hughes tried to make the harrowing journey up to the control panel once more. 

-

“Excuse me, dearie. Could you tell me where Dr.Hawkeye is?” The man caught sight of a dark haired girl leaving a restricted sector of the hospital. 

“She’s in the operating theater, in the middle of a surgery. You’ll have to wait, sir.” Becca said cheerfully, indicating the area she had just left from.

“Well, I don’t mind waiting!” The man said, gesturing to the seats of the waiting room around them with a thin, forced smile, but the other doctor didn’t seemed to realize the forced nature of his expression. 

Becca smiled at him, before leaving. She wondered if Havoc was free—she had just gotten out of a long surgery and wouldn’t mind him lavishing her in his…ministrations. 

As the naive doctor left him alone, Vincent pushed past the OR office doors, which opened up into another waiting room section, this time reserved for doctors. 

“Sir, you can’t be in here!” The nurse with mousy brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses stood up in alarm, but seeing that no one else was in the room, the man lifted his gun and shot her as well, watching her crumple. 

So sad. There were only two people that he truly, desperately wanted to kill, and yet here was all this collateral damage. 

The man calmly walked through the doors labeled ‘OR 2’ and smiled to himself when he saw his main target.

“I’ve been looking for you, Dr.Hawkeye.” He threatened carefully, raising his gun to point it at her head. 

-

For someone who appreciated his exercise, Roy couldn’t understand for the life of him why he was thinking about taking the elevator. 

“Havoc’s gonna roast me about this.” The dark-haired man muttered as he aggressively pushed the button that had an up arrow. “He’s gonna call me an old man.”

But nothing could have possibly prepared him for the sight of the elevator doors dinging open and his best friend slumped over in a scary pool of blood. 

“Hughes—“ Roy choked, feeling the panic rise up in him. “Havoc! Breda! Falman! SOMEONE!” He hollered, hoping his shouting could catch the attention of one of them. The man sank down onto his knees, pressing his hand to his best friend’s chest. 

“Stay with me, Maes.” Roy whispered, his eyes wide and dilated with panic. He turned over his shoulder to bellow the names of his colleagues once more, but he found that he didn’t need to. Havoc was already racing down the hallway, ruffled, with an equally rumpled Rebecca running a few steps behind him. 

The second Rebecca saw Hughes, she was on her knees, trying to help Roy apply pressure to his wound. “What happened?!” She asked. 

Maes coughed weakly, a dribble of blood spilling out from his lips. 

“A man—he was looking for Riza. Roy, he was asking for your Riza—“ Maes gasped. 

Fuery and Breda had joined them while Maes had been talking, and set about trying to move the incapacitated man onto a gurney. At the sharp movements, Hughes passed out from the pain. Fuery was crying quietly, tears running down his stricken face. 

“Wait—I know who that is. He asked me too—“ The horrified expression set in on Rebecca’s face as she realized what had happened. “Mustang—she’s in the OR with Ross and Brosh.” She whispered, shell-shocked, her bloodied hands pressing against her cheeks. 

“Boss, go. I’ve already called the authorities and asked Izumi to initiate a lockdown. We’re going to take Hughes down a room. Gerso is on his way, we need another pair of hands. Go, before they stop the elevator or lock the stairwells.” Breda said, surprisingly calm. Of course, that was the surgeon’s dilemma—even as one of his closest friends lay there, close to death’s door, he needed to put his work of saving him first.

Rebecca, on the other hand, was inconsolable. She was trembling in Havoc’s arms as she sobbed, her crimson stained hands clutching at his coat. “I killed them, Jean. I killed them.” She wept into the crook of his neck. 

Havoc, for his part, knew that this was where he was needed. Following Roy, who had disappeared down the stairwell, wasn’t an option, Roy already had Falman. If he tried to work on Hughes, his concern would get in the way of proper care. For now, all he could do was try to convince one of his best friends that she was not a murderer. 

His lips pressed against the top of her head as he murmured soothing words, his hand gently rubbing up and down her back in a gentle, continuous motion. As he closed his eyes, fighting off tears, he hoped that this was nothing more than a nastily vivid dream. 

-

Roy could hear his heartbeat roaring in his ears as he raced down the stairs and burst out into the operating theater room. 

“Sir!” Falman’s voice was high and alarmed as he broke away from Roy and ducked behind the receptionist table. “Sheska’s down, sir.” The man said quietly, barely repressing his emotions. 

“Take care of her, Falman—the police should be here soon. Stabilize her and get her out. I’m going to take care of our Lieutenant.” Roy said, barely pausing as he stormed towards OR 2. 

Falman opened his mouth to protest his boss’ desire to meet death, but shut up quickly when he heard a soft groan from the woman he hovered over. 

-

It was his worst nightmare. 

Riza was working, her hands steady as her hemostat picked at the surface of the brain. 

Ross was crying quietly, the tears rolling down her face. Her intern partner Brosh was crying as well, though he kept working with Riza. 

At the center of it all, one man stood, strong and tall with the barrel of a gun pressed against the temple of his Riza. 

At the sound of the door opening, Riza’s head turned imperceptibly. 

“Roy?” She called out. 

His heart shattered. Her voice was strong and assured as always, but held the soft warble in the undertone, one that let him know that she had silent tears slipping down his face. 

“I’m here, Riza.”

“I can’t let her die, Roy—“ She said. 

As Roy opened his mouth to reassure her, the gun was suddenly pointing in his direction. 

“Shut up.” The tone was icy, ringing with a finality, and Roy wondered if he was going to die tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't hate me :))


	5. - the aftermath -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hahahhahahah hope you all didn't hate me for leaving you on that cliffhanger. 
> 
> here's the much awaited next chapter!
> 
> i'm not expanding more bc you're just going to have to read hehe

The operating theater’s halogen light filled down where Riza was standing for her to get a good view of the cranium, but for Roy Mustang, the light caught the blond strands of her hair, lighting it up in an angelic flurry of light from within the confines of the scrub cap. Even scarier, the dark and glinting metal of the gun that was pressing against her brain was lit up, glinting and glistening in a dangerous manner. 

And her tears. He could see the way the moisture caught the light as they slipped down her face, and it felt so….wrong. She shouldn’t cry. 

“Shut _up_.” The man hissed, stepping into the light to look at Roy. 

He knew this man. Where did he know this man from? As he racked his brain for answers, Roy held his hand up in a placating manner. His objective was to get the gun away from the man, but for the moment, he was simply too far away to make a move that would actually count. 

Roy quietly took a step, but the man noticed the movement, and soon the barrel of the gun was pressed flushly against her head, the man’s eyes glinting. 

“Don’t take another step, or I’ll shoot her here and now.” The man warned.

No. The gun was too close to her—and goddamn it, why was she still working?! He swore he heard a slight shudder in her voice as she asked Brosh for a replacement hemostat, and that nearly had him seeing red. 

“Easy.” Roy cautioned the man, his hands once again up like he was getting arrested. “Wait—I know you.”

Think, Roy, think.

Apparently his brain was feeling merciful to him, and the patient and the face came back to him vividly. “You’re Vincent Dahlia.” 

Oh, no. 

“That’s right, son.” Roy had once appreciated the sweet name of endearment, but grew guilty about it when Mrs.Dahlia had died on his table. Now, it sounded bitter, much like the way Riza spat out “Sir” at times. 

Riza, Riza, Riza. She was too close to the gun—and she needed to work. Roy’s breath caught before he focused on the man in front of him. 

“Why are you doing this?” He asked, his voice quiet. 

“You two..were supposed to save my wife. This one, promised that she’d do her best to save her, and yet she still died. You know, after I shot this one, I was going to come and find you, sonny. But now I don’t really have to, you two are in the same place. Dolores….will _finally_ get what she deserved.” the man whispered his wife’s name reverently—a sharp contrast to his strong and biting words before. 

“We tried, Vincent. We tried. But you knew that Dolores’ health was starting to decline.” Roy tried to calm the man down, taking a few steps. 

“It doesn’t matter!” Vincent protested. “It doesn’t matter. The surgery was supposed to save her, and you let her die! And now you two are going to have to pay the price.” The crazed look was back in the man’s eyes once again, and Roy swallowed drily.

“Who should I kill first?” The man mused, his face contorted in a thoughtful expression. 

-

“Not hurt…too badly.” Sheska whispered, looking up at the doctor who hovered over her. She could see the way the hairs at the top of his head were starting to gray, and almost immediately, thousands of facts about premature graying came to her tongue, but then she shifted and all the information was lost with the rush of pain. 

“Patients assessing themselves has a 80% failure rate. Often times, the patient is in deep concern of their audience to give a correct assessment. Other times, the patient is in shock, meaning their pain assessment is flawed.” The man spouted off quickly, before having the decency to look somewhat embarrassed. 

“Symptoms of shock include dizziness, clammy skin, chest pain, anxiety, and the most common symptom to check for is bluish extremities.” Sheska retaliated, and with great effort, raised her hand. “My fingers are not blue, Doctor—what are you doing?” The man had gently pushed her scrub shirt up, his fingers cool against her skin. 

“Surveying the wound.” The man said simply, his eyes taking on a clinical glint. “There’s an entry and an exit wound, which leads me to believe that the bullet is not lodged within you.” 

“Bullets that stay inside the skin and are coated in a lead casing have been known to infiltrate the bloodstream and cause severe medical issues.” Sheska said almost immediately. 

“Almost like—“ The man started. 

“The Roman defrutum.” the two chorused, before blinking at one another in surprise. 

The man’s lips started to curl up into a smile, but he quickly refocused on her wound. “Looks like a graze. I’m going to stuff an anti-clotting agent, considering it’s been three minutes and your bleeding has yet to slow down.” He said, rummaging around in the kit that was open beside him. 

“Are you going to move me?” The young woman asked, internally bracing herself for the pain. Despite being a flesh wound, she had read somewhere that jostling a GSW within the first ten minutes of getting shot was to be the most painful. 

She observed the furrow in his eyebrow as he shook his head in the negative. “No. The doors are locked from the outside. The only way we can get out is if the SWAT team comes in here and doesn’t shoot us.” 

“There is a 45% chance that the SWAT team might shoot us, considering that they should be well aware of the target.” She protested. 

“There’s also a 68% probability that the SWAT team will not get here in time because of all the evacuations and doors they need to get through.” He countered, before moving back to his original position. “This is going to hurt.”

“I know, but clotting agent cloth is the best way to stop the bleeding.” She whispered the sentence she had read in one of the textbooks. 

He nodded, and she felt a moment of relief when she realized that he wasn’t going to count down. But she saw his hand tense, and chickened out. A hand wrapped around his, stopping him, and her eyes closed. 

“Wait. Tell me something. Your name. A fact. Something.” She said, her voice soft and strangled. 

“My name is Vato Falman, ma’am. I’m the Head of Cardio. Did you know that throughout the course of your life, you eat seven spiders in your sleep? That’s just the average, of course.” He murmured. 

Maybe it was his soothing voice, or the way her brain relaxed as she learned more information, but Sheska managed to clamp down on her lips when he finally did push the cloth into her wound, not letting her scream reach anyone but her and Falman’s ears. 

“Thank you.” Sheska mumbled, her chest heaving from the pain. 

His only response was a quiet nod and a gentle mop of her forehead. 

-

“Gerso. Can you go out and grab some more rags? There’s too much blood.” Breda, who’s voice had initially been confident when speaking to Mustang, had taken on a worried quality. Hughes lay on the gurney, unresponsive, and their makeshift surgery tools were all around them. 

Gerso nodded, making his way over to the door, his hand wrapping around the handle. 

“It’s locked, boss.” Gerso, and he didn’t miss the way both Fuery and Breda’s eyes widened. 

Breda was silent for a moment, the slow beeping of the heart monitor being the only sound in the room. Beside him, Hughes looked eerily pale, not a hint of a smile on his face. 

“Gerso. There’s a bottle in the bag in the corner. Get it out and open it.” Breda instructed. 

Gerso did as told, hiding his confusion as he pulled out the whiskey bottle and unscrewed the cap. It wasn’t anything fancy, looking almost like a generic drugstore brand. 

The bottle was passed around from man to man. Once each of them had taken a swig, Breda cleared his throat and addressed the other two. 

“This is just us now. It’s on us. We are going to do everything we can to make sure this man wakes up, and that means anything. Which also means that there are no freak-outs allowed, you hear me?” The usually jovial man looked so threatening in that moment that Kain and Gerso couldn’t do anything but simply nod. 

“Let’s get started then. Ten blade.” Breda’s gloved hand extended outwards, and so it began.

-

Roy had managed to take a few steps forward, enough for him to see Riza and Vincent Dahlia clearly. Just a few more steps and he’d be within range to take the man down. 

There was one thing. 

Riza’s eyes were burning into him here and there, in short, sporadic bursts while she worked on the patient. She was glancing at him to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid, he could tell. Roy found it hard to concentrate when their eyes locked—he hadn’t realized how much he missed her eye contact after a week without. 

‘_Don’t do anything stupid_,’ she seemed to be chiding. 

His arms were starting to grow weary from the position they were in, suspended, hands near his head. He wanted to drop his arms, but he was unsure if the action would send the trigger-happy Dahlia into action. 

That wasn’t what he wanted. 

“Think about Dolores.” He told the man, taking a step as he saw the man’s eyes unfocus slightly before snapping to him. 

One step down. Several to go. 

“Would she want this for you?” He asked. Roy’s voice was soft, a quiet hush against the harsh tones of the monitors hooked up to the patient. Riza’s eyes flitted over to him for a moment before back to the patient, her hand quietly indicating to Brosh for more suction. 

Next to Brosh, Ross was tensing as well, as if she had just realized what Roy had been planning to do. “Sir, could you please move a few steps? I need to readjust the patient.” She hummed quietly, her voice loud enough to make it clear. 

Brilliant girl. She was getting a raise after this, Roy decided. That was incentive enough for Roy to take a few steps forward closer to the gunman, Ross assuming his previous position at his back. He heard the rustle of fabric behind him as the patient was “adjusted”, his senses acute. 

“She wouldn’t want you to be so unhappy, Vincent.” Roy continued, watching as the man got a faraway look in his eyes, the misting over a clear indication of his emotions. 

“She always wanted others to be happy.” Vincent whispered, the hand holding the gun beginning to tremble. 

“That’s right. That means you.” Roy whispered. One, two, three steps. He was in range. 

“And I wanted _her_ to be happy. And you two _took_ her from me.” The man hissed, and the finger was on the trigger and almost pulling backward and—

Roy lunged. 

-

“Hurts.” Sheska whispered quietly to Falman. As the minutes ticked by, the man got more and more worried. He tried to hide it from her, but in the short time that they had spent in each other’s company, she had learned his facial tics. It was hard not to notice when that was all you were staring at. 

“I’m sorry.”He whispered. He had gone from whispering “I know, ma’am,” to “It’s okay,” to “I’m sorry” in the past hour. 

Sheska wondered what was taking the police so long. They should have been there by now…the others were in trouble. Vaguely, she could hear something in the distance, the stampede of feet, the knocking down of doors, but she chalked it up as a hopeful hallucination. 

The pain was starting to ebb away as she took slow breaths, but she didn’t mention that. She knew that if she did, the little furrow in his brow would come back, and that meant bad news.

“Vato.” She whispered. Hey, her blood was all over his lab coat. It was clear to say that they weren’t on a formal basis anymore. 

Immediately, he was close to her once more, his ear tilted towards her to hear her faint voice. 

“I think I’m going to die.” She whispered. Sheska watched as he gulped nervously at the statement, and spare a glance at the door which had remained closed. She waited, for some fact that would confirm or deny her statement, but it never came. 

Instead, he gently picked her up from where her head rested on his lap, and held her against him. She knew that it should have hurt, but it didn’t. Based on the lack of a pained expression, he knew too. She was too close. 

His hand sifted through her matted strands as she closed her eyes. 

And then the doors burst open. 

-

A few floors above them, another couple was in the same position. Jean Havoc had slumped against the door, Rebecca pressed into his side. She had cried hysterically for a stretch of time, but had soon quietened down. 

Their breathing was the only sound in the room, and at times Havoc felt trapped, as though he was in a fishbowl. 

How ironic. Shooting fish in a barrel. 

The blood that had stained Rebecca’s hands had transferred over to his shirt when she had been crying, and now the crimson had caked and coated both of their articles of clothing. Both were trying very hard to not think about whose blood it was. 

“We’re going to be okay, Becks. We’re gonna be okay.” He whispered. 

Her only response was to press herself closer. 

-

Roy lunged forward, knocking the gun out of his grasp, his entire body weight thrown over the man. A gunshot rang out, loud and making the surgeons flinch. 

“Ross.” Riza called for the girl’s attention. When she didn’t respond, she called out again. “Ross! Is Mustang okay?! Is Roy okay?!”Her voice reached frenzied shrieks that jolted the woman out of her daze. 

“He’s getting up—yes ma’am, he’s okay—!” Ross croaked out, watching as the figure of Roy Mustang stood up. 

“I’m okay, Riza. I’m okay. Ross, go pick up the gun with a towel. Discharge it, then set it over on that table over there. Brosh, let Hawkeye take over, and go to the phone in the corner. Dial seven-zero, and tell the man who picks up that the threat has been taken care of.” Roy said, not moving from his position where he stood over the unconscious form of Dahlia. 

Soon after Brosh made the call, the doors unlocked and the police burst in. They detained the gunman, taking the gun into evidence, checked for injuries, and with the promise of getting a statement, left the weary doctors be. Roy for his part, didn’t move from Riza’s side as she quietly worked. She finished working thirty minutes after their salvation, her sutures neat and precise. 

She scrubbed out, washing her hands for longer than was necessary, not mentioning a single thing about a pair of dark eyes that tracked her every move, even when she hugged Brosh and Ross and told them to go home. 

Riza didn’t say a damn thing as she felt the same gaze burning into her, the owner of the eyes following her up the stairs and down the hallway to her office. At the last second, Roy grabbed her elbow and tugged her the opposite direction into his office. 

When the door closed, Riza whirled around, mouth open to scold him, when her breath caught and a sob came out of her mouth instead of a reprimand. 

He watched as her expression crumpled and was immediately there to catch her, her cries muffled as she pressed her face against his chest. Their arms wound around each other tightly, and he nosed into her hair, his own tears slipping down his face. 

She was trembling, a leaf in the wind, and he tightened his grip on her as though to steady her. The moisture of her tears had permeated the thin fabric of his shirt, his tears dripping into her blond locks. 

“I’m okay.” He whispered to her, a reassurance to both her and him. 

“I’m okay.” She echoed, her crying making her statement catch. 

“Let’s get you home.” He murmured, and for once, she doesn’t protest. He checked on his crew first, making sure that anyone who was affected is going home. Once that was taken care of, he took her hand and led her out of the office. They used the back stairs—neither of them were in a state to see people now. 

The ride was short and sweet, and not once did Riza’s hand slip from his grip. She knew as well as he did that the loss of contact would make them panicky, especially when both of their lives had been threatened just thirty minutes ago. 

They leaned on each other as they made their way up the three flights of stairs, and by the time they reached Riza’s apartment, his hand rested on her waist, and her eyes from where her head rested on his shoulder were beginning to close. 

Riza managed to fit the key into the slot, pushing it open. At the creak of the door, both Rebecca and Hayate rushed over. Rebecca’s eyes widened at the sight of Roy, and she opened her mouth.

“Not now, Rebecca.” He whispered. “Not now.” 

Quickly shutting her mouth about the sharp remarks about his earlier behavior, the roommate nodded. “Her room’s in there. Shower’s the third door.” Rebecca said quietly before coaxing Hayate away from where he whimpered at his mistress’ heels. 

Nodding, Roy led Riza into her room, shutting the door behind them. He let her go for a moment, quickly rummaging around for comfortable clothes, before handing them to her. “Go take a shower.” He whispered. “Take a shower, then come back, and you can sleep, okay?”

She shared the same fear he did. Was sleep their inky oblivion that they so desperately needed, or was it just a promise of the horrors to be repeated in their mind, again and again in an eternal loop.

With a nod, she left him, slipping out of her room. 

He had to admit, in the minutes that passed by in her absence, he grew panicky. A part of him wanted to get up, make sure that she was okay in the bathroom, but he tampered that down. She wouldn’t appreciate that, and besides—she was quite capable on her own. He needed to control his paranoia. 

That thought didn’t stop him from heaving a sigh of relief when she returned. 

He was quick to guide her into bed, tucking the sheets around her, making sure her head was situated on the pillows. He stayed with her until her eyes closed and sleep had claimed her. Even then, he stayed for a few extra moments, making sure he could hear the rise and fall of her chest before leaning over, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, right where the gun had pressed. 

He clicked off the light as he left the room, shutting the door behind him without a single sound. At the end of the hallway, Becca wrung her hands anxiously. 

“I know I shouldn’t have told him, but he said he was going to wait in the patient section and assumed that he was just going to sit and wait for her—“ The dark haired girl began, the words flowing out of her in a rush, but he quieted her by stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her tightly. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, Catalina. Even though you’re a pain in my ass.” He whispered. 

The woman he regarded as a little (and annoying as hell) sister wrapped her arms around him tightly. “Did you do anything stupid?”

“Not quite, but I’m sure that Riza will come after my ass soon enough.”

“I’m glad. I have something to look forward to.”

They hugged for a few moments before stepping back. 

Roy Mustang went home alone to an empty bed with nothing but the thoughts of losing the most important people in his life to keep him company. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you love me again? hopefully hehe. 
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALLLLL THE COMMENTS. I ENJOYED EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM, AND IT GOT ME WORKING MUCH FASTER ON THIS CHAPTER. 
> 
> let me know what you thought! drop a kudos if you enjoyed! 
> 
> follow me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


	6. - the bones -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some foundation to riza meeting the interns: havolina angst. :)

She jumps a little bit when her pager goes off in a round of beeps, then chides herself for it. She’s safe, there’s no reason for her to be jumpy all of a sudden. Her hyper-wariness was a side-effect from the rather…traumatic events of yesterday, and it was something that irritated Riza to extent. She wasn’t a damsel in distress to get nervous any time a loud, jarring sound rang out in her ear. After all, not to be superficial, but she had faced worse things in her life. Besides, what if she was in a middle of a surgery and she jumped? What was she going to say to the patient’s family? ‘Yeah, sorry, your father’s dead because I can’t handle my emotions, and I sliced a whole cut across his brain. Better luck next time!’? Yeah, right. 

The blonde pushed herself up out of the chair, sliding her feet into the shoes neatly placed under her desk. She scanned the screen of the pager, noting the hospital room that she was being summoned to. She stepped out of the room, and her face relaxed into a small smile as she realized that the Havoc was stepping out of his office as well. His face contorted into an easy grin as he saw her, and he wiggled the pager in his hands. 

“You got paged too?” He asked as he fell into step with her. 

“Mhm. Do you think it’s a consult?” Riza asked curiously. 

Jean rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he pondered her question. “Doubt why they’d need both of us.” He said. 

“General and Neuro? An odd combination, but not uncommon.” She pointed out with a shrug. They both avoided the elevator, and elected to take the floors instead. The sentiment, although not vocalized, hung between them: no one was quite ready to breach one of the spots where…

The flight of stairs wasn’t quite as long as she expected. Within a few moments, both doctors were pushing the door open to the next floor, walking down the hallway. It seemed as though the patient room was rather isolated, away from the rest, given how they walked down three hallways to get to the room. 

Riza pushed the door open, peeking her head in. Her stoic expression melted away, giving in to a smile as she saw who the group of doctors were clustered around. 

Maes Hughes, arms encumbered with a wriggling little girl, and a wife lingering by his side, grinned at her with a smile that made her stop in her tracks. 

“Hughes!” Riza exclaimed, her eyes brightening as she stepped inside, a similar exclamation slipping from Havoc’s lips as well. 

“What have I told you about calling me Hughes? Call me Maes.” The man said jovially, pushing his glasses up with his free hand. “Everyone, this is my Gracia and Elicia.” He introduced. 

“We know, Maes.” Rebecca, who had heard the tail end of that statement, slipped inside, joining the fray of doctors. 

“You’re here too?” Havoc asked as the dark-haired woman stepped into place between him and Hawkeye. 

“Yeah, I got paged.” Becca answered. 

The mischievous grin curled on Hughes’ lips, but before the man could speak, the sound of the door opening distracted them. 

The man of the hour stepped through, raking a hand through his messy black hair. He closed the door with a sense of finality behind him, before turning to answer the eager faces. 

“I see you all have discovered Doctor Hughes is alive and well.” Roy Mustang said clearly, his eyes catching on the amused man on the hospital bed. 

“We’re all friends here, Roy.” Maes rolled his eyes at the formality. 

“Why are we here, boss?” Breda, who had been unusually silent up until now, asked with a tilt of his head. 

Mustang took a breath, and waited until he had picked up Maes’ daughter to respond. Elicia distracted most of the doctors with her sing-song “Uncle Roy!” (which brought a round of “Awww”s from the doctors, Breda being the loudest), but a certain blond’s eyes were trained on the man carrying the precious little one. 

Roy spun to face his colleagues, his friends, and in recent events, his subordinates. “It’s come to my attention that I haven’t been the Roy that you know.” He paused, and for a moment, nothing but the drone of hospital monitors could be heard. 

“There are a few things that I’ve been stressed with, but I shouldn’t take my foul mood onto you all and our friendship. I’m asking you all to give me a chance again, to accept me as your chief once more.” Roy finished, his expression serious. 

There was a silence that spanned for a minute, that was broken by a laugh from Hughes. 

“We haven’t stopped being your friend for even a second—no matter how dumb you’re being.” Green eyes sparkled knowingly behind glass frames. 

“Besides, you being dumb isn’t anything new. In fact, we’re quite used to it.” Becca snarked, but the small smile that curled on her lips was evidence of her forgiveness and her acceptance. 

“Yeah, we’ve always been with you, Chief.” Havoc said, and then flashed a peace sign. “If all we’re going to do is profess our love for each other, then I’m out. I have a nap that I want to be taking—I mean paperwork. Lots of it.” Havoc amended hastily, withering under Roy’s questioning eyebrow. 

Falman mumbled something that sounded suspiciously close to “…have to check up on her—“ before tailing behind Havoc as the blonde bolted from the room. 

Breda clapped Mustang on the back and something that looked suspiciously like currency passed between the men. 

Riza didn’t pay any attention to the whispers between Kain and Breda—her eyes were rather occupied: that is, they were staring into the onyx orbs of Roy Mustang. 

“You haven’t said anything.” Roy remarked casually, as though discussing the weather. 

That statement jolted the blond woman out of her reverie, and she busied herself with adjusting the sleeves of her lab coat. “Do I really have to?” She asked simply. 

A finger curled under her chin and tilted her head up—her eyes widened momentarily in surprise—she hadn’t realized that he had moved so close to her in a short span of time. 

“I have yet to get the answer I desire.” He pressed, insistent, and Riza fought the urge to roll her eyes. 

“You are too close for comfort.” She shot back, reaching up and pulling his hand away from her chin. She watched his expression fall for a second, and did actually roll her eyes. A simple life-or-death situation wasn’t going to make her soft and compliant. 

But she did feel bad. With swift, nimble fingers, she adjusted his tie, pushing the navy blue knot up to his neck, her pressure firm. “I once promised my allegiance. That hasn’t changed, sir.” She took a step back, then fixed him with a knowing look in her eyes. 

“You may have had the others fooled, sir, but don’t think for one moment that I can’t see through your act. I will figure out what has gotten you in a bad mood sooner or later. After all, it’s my place to, as your second-in-command.” She tossed over her shoulder as she left the room. 

Poor Roy was left there for a solid minute and a half, mouth hanging open, staring at the door that was long closed. 

He spun around and saw three pairs’ worth of Hughes-style smirks, even one on tiny little Elicia’s face. 

“Not. One. Word.” Roy warned. 

-

The knock against the door was light and gentle, but the sound was so vastly different from the hospital monitors that she had been listening to for the past day that the girl immediately blinked her dozing eyes open, ready to greet her visitor. 

“Come in,” She called out, her voice scratchy and hoarse. 

Chief of Cardio Vato Falman peeked his head in, his eyes softening considerably when he saw her sitting up in her hospital bed. “Hey, Sheska. I just came to visit you.” 

A small smile curled on the nurse’s lips, and she gestured to the chair next to her. “Company is welcome, but don’t you have things to be doing?” Should she have addressed him with a bit more respect? Probably, but she had almost bled out in his arms: it was safe to say that they were well past the regular formalities of the hospital. 

Falman shook his head a bit regretfully. “I can’t stay for long, Mustang has me covering the interns in the ER.” He said as he made his way to her bedside, electing to ignore the chair that had been presented to him. Instead, he awkwardly stood at her side, shifting his weight from one foot to another, his arms clasped behind his back. 

“If you continue to be so anxious, you might find yourself with a lot more gray hairs.” Sheska mumbled, then clapped a hand over her mouth, looking mortified. “I’m sorry—that didn’t mean to slip out!” She rushed to apologize, feeling the familiar feeling of chagrin sweep over her. 

To her relief, Falman didn’t seem too upset—rather, he chuckled quietly and waved her off. “I can’t be here right now, but research shows that presence to keep you company is nice. So, I brought something for you.” Falman murmured, then held out the object he had been hiding from her. 

In the middle of his hands, was a stuffed rat. 

Sheska took the toy presented to her with a questioning tilt of her head, her fingers running across the stitched words that spelled out ‘Central Amestris Hospital Gift Shop’ on the rat’s fuzzy back. “A rat?”

“A companion is nice to have, it’s said to improve recovery rates by 75%.” Falman answered confidently, answering as though she had questioned him on why he had gotten her a stuffed animal—not true, she was questioning why he chose a rat of all things. 

“But—a rat?” Sheska asked again, and this time, Falman had the decency to understand the question and look a bit sheepish. 

“Originally, it was flowers, but I was worried about your sinuses—and what if you were allergic to them? Then it was going to be a bear, but what if you didn’t like pink, red, or white? What if I chose a green bear but you wanted a pink one? There were too many probabilities. So I chose a rat—it’s nicely colored, quite cuddly, but I can return it, if you don’t want it—“

“No!” Sheska said firmly, wrapping her arms around the rat quite tightly. “No. I want him. Thank you.” She mumbled, looking down at the stuffed animal before her. She gently stroked the whiskers of the animal with a tip of her finger. He was right, the rat was really quite cuddly. 

“O-oh.” Falman seemed surprised by her outburst. “I’m glad to hear it. I should get going. I’ll come see you a bit later.” After giving her a shy little wave, he slipped outside, closing the door gently behind him. 

Sheska looked down at the rat. “You’re going to give me some company now?” 

The rat didn’t respond, but she gave it a small kiss on its pointy pink nose anyways. 

-

Dr.Catalina was well versed in the phrase “some things are better left unsaid”, but for the sake of herself and others, often called “bullshit”on that kind of ideology. Would you really want to have the burden of “what if” hanging over you? Would you want to keep the other person in the dark about your true feelings? No! “Leaving things unsaid” was an unacceptable option for the dark-haired woman. 

But now, confronted with the possibility herself, she might understand why somethings might be better left in the dark. 

As much as she didn’t want to remember, the previous day’s events were ingrained in her mind,possibly living on forever. As much as Riza told her it wasn’t, the situation was her fault. She should have been more wary of the man approaching the empty waiting room. She should have been more careful with divulging a location. She should have done so many other things, but had made all the wrong choices, and for that, others were paying for her mistakes. 

Maes and Sheska got shot—both lovely people, both far better than her. Both operations had been too touch-and-go for her to be comfortable, and at a certain point during Maes’ surgery, she had been convinced that he hadn’t been about to make it. 

And Riza and Roy, the center of the situation. As much as both tried to hide it, they were not dealing with the aftermath as well as they made themselves out to be. Becca had been there when they had staggered in, clutching onto each other like it was the end of the world. 

She had seen the way Roy had buried his face in her golden locks, refusing to let go of her for a second. She had heard the small whimper slipping from Riza’s mouth as he had let her go to snag her clothes—and she had seen how they had reached for each other once again. There was history between the two, and she often regretted that she hadn’t seen their gentle interaction after such a traumatic ordeal. 

But she herself was just as involved as anyone else—and she often forgot. She had been upstairs, locked in an office with the lights off, crushed against a chest and a pair of warm, secure arms in her. 

If she closed her eyes, she could distinctly remember the way the blood had dried on her hands, and the way it crumbled off of her later, cakey and sluggish. 

But the biggest aspect that remained questionable was not her memories tinged with fear, but rather the one constant variable throughout: Jean Havoc. 

He had been the one to hold her as their friend fought for his life a few doors down. Jean had been the one to gently brush her hair back, press a kiss to her forehead, and murmur encouragement, all the while trying to fight back his own worry. 

He had been scared—she had heard it in the small tremble of his voice, but he had fought so hard to suppress it. Had she been of sound mind, she would have told him not to worry, to support him—but she had been focused on herself and her mistakes. 

Selfish. She was selfish. Another aspect to add to her ever-growing list of sins. 

She knew they were good friends before (by good, she meant good,) before the incident, but now, she was left feeling lost, as though she was standing in unmapped territory. Where were they? Did he kiss her forehead with such tenderness only because they weren’t sure if they were going to make it to the next day? Was it an in-the-moment type of scenario? Or had he elected to stay with her because he really wanted to stay with her?

Becca paced in the office a few more times, wringing her hands. 

“Becca.” A voice called out, and the dark-haired woman turned to face her best friend with a sheepish smile. 

Riza stared at her, an amused smile splaying at her lips. “For the sake wearing a hole in my carpet, why don’t you just go and ask him? You know you want to. Just do it.” The woman encouraged. 

Becca scoffed. “It’s not that easy!”

“If it were any other man, you would have stomped up to him and demanded a six page essay for an answer.” Riza countered. 

“I know, but it’s”

“Havoc.”The two chorused, Riza’s a bit amused, Becca’s a bit dejected. 

“Listen. Just go ask him. He’s your friend. He’ll understand. He knows you.” Riza said, glancing back down to her papers, her pen scrawling across the sheets. 

“Like you and the _matchstick_?” 

“There is nothing between us.”

“Yeah. Mmhm. Sure.”

“Becca.”

“Yes?”

“You’re doing it again.” 

“Okay, _okay_, I’m leaving.” As if not to lose her nerve, the dark-haired woman sprinted out of the room, her hair bobbing in its ponytail behind her. 

Rebecca dashed down the stairs, feeling the familiar thrill of giddiness rush up in her—a feeling that only a particular cigarette wielding man unlocked in her. She knew that he’d be sleeping in one of the on-call rooms—he had an affinity for napping between operations, whether or not he actually needed the sleep. 

She paused outside the on-call room that she knew was his favorite, her cheeks flushed with excitement. Her hand wrapped around the knob, ready to turn it, when voices inside made her pause. 

She could hear heavy panting and moaning coming from within her room and wrinkled her nose. Her silent question about who was getting hot and heavy inside was answered with the sultry “Yes, Jean, _yes_!” being cried out in a voice that was unmistakably Solaris’. Becca had had an aversion to the intern ever since she’d found out that the girl had slept with Jean to get a spot at the hospital—but this—this was a new feeling that she hadn’t quite experienced before. 

Becca backed away from the door, and sprinted down the hallway, up the stairs and back up to Riza’s office. The expectant look on her friend’s face when she burst into the room quickly melted as she saw Becca’s forlorn expression. 

-

“Are you aware that Jean Havoc is sleeping with an intern?” Riza pushed the door open, the question slipping from her lips even before the door was closed behind her. 

Roy looked up at her from his pile of paperwork (stupid idiot, maybe he should stop napping and do his paperwork for once), and raised a brow. “I don’t usually get mixed up in what my colleagues do in their spare time.” He said, unimpressed. 

“_Roy_.” The word came out clenched, but it was enough to startle the man into dropping his pen. He scrambled to reach down and get it, and winced when he hit his head coming back up on the desk. 

There was no change in expression on Riza’s face that indicated that she was amused at him getting hurt. 

“Riza—I don’t know what to say. There are no anti-frat rules within the hospital—it’s not like the military.” He sighed, shaking his head. “When I was an intern, two of the Chiefs actually fell in love and married.” 

“There are no rules against a boss and a subordinate?!” She exclaimed, quite put out by his answer, but less incensed than before. She sighed, rubbing her face roughly with the palm of her hand, before taking a few steps and sinking down onto one of the chairs in front of his desk. 

Roy glanced over the sheet he was working on, noting her tense posture. “Forgive me, but can I ask why you’re so interested in Jean Havoc?” He asked carefully, his tone casual. _Please buy it, please buy it, please buy it. _

“Now, officially, I can’t tell you. But someone I know has a crush on him.” She said, and one look at her tawny eyes was all the answer he needed. Not her, someone else. But who?

As far as he knew, Riza wasn’t quite close to anyone in the hospital except—

_Rebecca_. 

Catalina had a crush on Havoc. That made a lot of sense. Roy cursed Havoc for being so dumb—the man never knew what was good and what wasn’t. 

“If I were to make your day, would you give me a kiss?” Roy asked cheekily, a sarcastic smile beginning to form on his face as he began to formulate a plan. 

“No. I’d give you some encouragement, though.” Riza answered blandly. 

Roy pondered that for a moment, before shrugging. “Fair enough. So, Doctor Hawkeye, your assignment tomorrow is to assess the interns. This will be a weeklong process—and the interns will be assigned to your service, free to do what you say. I’d say that’s enough for you to _impart wisdom_.” The last sentiment was expressed meaningfully, and based on the small smile that curled on her lips, she understood the plan. 

“Thank you, sir.”She said, standing up, looking far more confident than she had when she had entered. 

“Now, now, where’s my encouragement?!” Roy protested. “A deal’s a deal.”

“Ah.” Riza said, and the smirk on her face grew tenfold. She reached across, grabbing the front of his shirt, and yanked him up to her. “Sir, with all due respect, if you let yourself have so much paperwork piled up as you do now, I promise that I’ll come after you, and paperwork will be the last thing you are scared of.” She threatened, then released him. ‘That should be encouragement enough to finish, sir.” The minx blinked her eyes innocently, before sauntering out of the room. 

And for the second time that very day, Roy was left speechless, his shirt rumpled, and feeling very turned on despite detesting the woman who had put him in this state to begin with. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE, but things got really out of hand for the past week. There has been way too much work for me to sit down, so this is a bit late. 
> 
> i hope you enjoy!
> 
> yes, riza will torture interns in the next chapter, hehe
> 
> yes, roy still "detests" riza.
> 
> hehehehehehe


	7. - the muscles -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> riza tortures some interns
> 
> the author also teases at a few relationships hehe

Originally, Riza had selected a pair of black pumps with three inch heels. Heels weren’t the most comfortable, but they gave her the posture and confidence that she sometimes lacked—and she definitely needed that today. She had set it out and everything, the black shoes sitting next to her bag and coffee. 

“Your feet are going to hate you.” Becca, standing in the doorway of her room, had remarked tiredly. “Just wear your regular shoes instead. You don’t need the shoes to kill someone.” 

Riza had glanced slightly at the young woman, and knew that she was right. “Fine,” the blond had conceded, slipping her feet into the comfortable black sneakers instead. “Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone. Keep each other company.” That had been said at Black Hayate, who sat obediently at his mistress’ feet. With a gentle pat on her canine’s head, Riza had moved to where her best friend stood, wrapping Becca in a tight hug. 

“Don’t make them cry.” Her best friend had joked. 

“No promises.” She had said back with a tight squeeze. 

Riza had petitioned Roy to give Rebecca a day off the night before, and he had accepted, with the sole request that she bring him coffee in the morning. Her friend desperately needed the day off: the stark revelation of Havoc’s side-quests was something that she needed to recover from. 

-

With both hands burning from the scalding cups of coffee, Riza entered the hospital, her back straight, face perfectly composed. She set both cups down at the receptionists’ table, telling Barry to go up and give Roy one and enjoy the other himself. 

It was time to whip the interns into shape. 

She made her way to the intern lounge, standing stiffly in the doorway. Riza waited, her face composed as she surveyed the lazing interns, and when they didn’t notice her, she cleared her throat loudly. At the sight of the stern second-in-command, Brosh, Ross, and Than jumped to their feet, Kimblee and Solaris being a bit slow in the uptake. 

“Good morning. You will all be on my service from now on. I will be assigning you duties, dictating which surgeries you will be able to scrub in on, and so on and so forth. I don’t know who was your resident before, but I promise you, my jurisdiction is final. I will expect you to know patient history like it’s your bedtime story.” She said, and narrowed her eyes, studying the group in front of her. She opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by her pager beeping. 

She gestured to the group with a hand, briskly walking down the hallway. A quick glance behind her confirmed that Brosh and Ross were keeping up with her, while the other three seemed to be lagging. 

“Kimblee, Solaris, Than, would you like me to stop and wait for you? I’m sure if a patient has a code blue, they’ll pause and wait for you to come before dying.” Riza barked out, and almost immediately, the three picked up their pace. Good. 

Their case was non-emergent, just the nurse paging to say a patient’s tests were back. 

Before opening the door, Riza fixed the group with a steely glare. “Be respectful.” She warned before twisting the door open and stepping inside. 

“Hello, Mister Daly.” Riza greeted with a smile as she walked inside. “I hope you don’t mind, I have a few interns accompanying me today.” 

“The more the merrier!”The man said cheerfully, smiling at the interns as they walked inside. 

“Ross, report.” Riza commanded, crossing her arms. 

“Uh—Lionel Daly, 49 years old, has a tumor that’s pressing agains his Broca’s area. The recent scans shows that the tumor protruding and growing.” Ross said. 

“Broca’s area is in direct relation with what function, Solaris?” Riza asked.

“Speech and language processing.” Came the answer. 

“Good. What would be the best course of action, Than?”

“An excision on the outside to drain the fluid, and then surgery to go in and remove the rest of the mass?” The intern asked quietly. 

“Are you asking or telling me?”

“Telling you, ma’am.”

“Good.” Riza hummed, and took a step forwards to the patient, her hands quickly flipping through the chart provided. “Mr.Daly, how are you feeling?”

“As good as I can with this golfball on my head.” Daly said cheerfully. 

“More like a basketball.” Kimblee’s statement, which was meant to be a quiet, snide comment, was voiced louder than he intended. 

Riza’s head snapped around, and she fixated Kimblee with such a glare that the intern withered, his proud shoulders shrinking. “Out.” She bit out through gritted teeth, her eyes absolutely furious. As Kimblee left the room, the attending apologized profusely to the patient for her intern’s actions. The patient was quite understanding, waving off her apologies with a wave of her hand. 

The other interns gulped. It wasn’t even thirty minutes in the day, and already Kimblee had gotten on Riza’s bad side. 

-

Kimblee was put on scut duty for the rest of the week. Scut consisted of menial tasks that doctors often didn’t perform and was considered a punishment of the highest order. Kimblee was furiously prohibited from even touching patient charts, and if he didn’t learn a lesson, Hawkeye swore that she’d keep him from touching a stethoscope ever again. 

The remaining four interns were left with the woman, scrubbing on the Daly surgery. As she worked, Riza asked the group gathered around her questions. Those who answered correctly were awarded a nod. Incorrect answers were either answered correctly on the second try, or were followed by a lesson from the attending. 

As the surgery progressed and Riza felt confident enough for the interns to try the procedure, she stepped aside and allowed them to take the hemostats, under her careful guidance, of course. Ross was quite steady with her hands and had stepped aside for Solaris to take her place a few moments ago. 

“Retract.” Riza commanded, watching as the intern extended the silver tools into the cavity. She waited, but no move was made from the intern to retract. 

“Retract.” Riza insisted forcefully. 

“I got it.” Solaris sniffed, her eyes fixated on the mass that she was trying to remove. 

“You will retract now!” Riza’s voice cut the relative silence sharply, and with a jerk, Solaris pulled her hands away from the patient. Riza yanked the hemostats from the other intern and stared at her, her tawny eyes burning with the same rage she had shown Kimblee before. 

“You’re done. Out of my operating room. Go sit in my office.” 

Solaris’ dark eyes widened under the luminescent lights, but there was no option to contest her sentence: Hawkeye had already turned back to the patient, instructing Brosh to take over where she had left off. A surge of embarrassment coursed through the intern: that was her mass. She had wanted to be the one to take it out, to boast about her developing surgical skills, but now a wastrel like Brosh had the hemostats in hand. 

Flush with anger, Solaris stalked out of the operating theater, scrubbing angrily at her hands and angrily tossing her mask into the awaiting bin. 

\- 

Three interns left. 

Six hours left in their 48 hour shift. 

“She’s quite scary.” Brosh commented over lunch, stealing fries from Ross’ plate. 

“But fair. Kimblee was being a jerk. You can’t talk to patients like that.” Ross pointed out, her hand coming down to smack the back of Brosh’s. 

“Do you think she’s talked to Solaris yet?” Brosh asked, rubbing the spot where she had hit him with a pout that made her relent and hand over three of her fries. 

“No, she hasn’t gone up to her office. She’s eating lunch now.” The third companion, who had yet to fully join the conversation, quietly interjected. Than, along with his colleagues, glanced over to where their attending sat with the other chiefs. 

Riza’s salad had remained virtually untouched throughout her lunch with the other Chiefs. 

“I heard that you’re ruining—I mean, running the interns, Hawkeye.” Breda said with a smirk, a knowing glint in his eye. 

“I saw Kimblee on scut already. Good for you, I never liked him.” Falman grumbled uncharacteristically. “He’s rude to the nurses. Apparently he harasses them a lot.” 

That comment made Riza take pause and frown—that wasn’t acceptable behavior. She’d have to do more digging to find out whether or not that claim was true. 

“I only see three interns. What happened to the other, Hawkeye? Eat her up?” Havoc asked. 

Maybe she should have played it cool, maybe she should have watched her mouth, but in a calm tone, Riza put him in his place. “No, actually. She’s sitting in my office, waiting for her consequences. It’s about time she learned that some privileges need to be earned, not given. It’s a lesson that would do you well to learn, Havoc. It seems that you’ve had trouble with it in the past.” Riza remarked before swiftly standing up and leaving, beckoning to the interns. All three students jumped to their feet and disposed of their meals, following the woman as she disappeared down the hallway. 

“What just happened?” Havoc questioned. 

-

“Hello, James!” Riza’s voice took on a cheery tone, one that none of the three interns had heard before. They shared a collective look of surprise before turning to the five-year-old who sat on the hospital bed, quite happy with the collection of toys surrounding him. Both of his fathers hovered around, doing menial things from fluffing up the child’s pillows to adjusting a teddybear left and right. 

James waved in response, but the action was jittery and shaky. 

“Than?” Riza turned, raising a brow at the intern. 

“James MacAvon, five years old, scheduled for a biopsy today as a precaution for an autoimmune carrier type.” Than recited, then turned to the child with a grin. 

“It won’t be too big, right? I’m talking about the piece of his brain.” One father remarked worriedly, lacing his fingers over and over again. 

“Not much, sir. Just 3 centimeters of space, that should be enough for us.” Hawkeye said, splitting her thumb and index finger with a sliver of space. 

The man seemed reassured with that fact and his husband’s supportive shoulder squeezed, and nodded, giving his consent. 

Riza opened her mouth to talk, but heard quiet sniffling from behind her. Brosh was quietly crying, but hurriedly wiping away his tears, trying to hide his overflow of emotions. Riza’s face softened for a moment, and she gestured to the door, giving Brosh a meaningful look. She’d talk with him later. 

A moment after Brosh’s departure, Ross made a quiet noise to grab Riza’s attention. “I’m going to check on him.” The girl whispered before slipping out, following her best friend. 

“Myself and Than will be the ones on your son’s case. You have nothing to worry about, it’s a minimally invasive procedure. Than will get your child prepped for surgery.” With the last words of comfort and reassurance to the patient and his parents, Riza left, allowing Than to prep the little boy. She walked briskly down the hallway, finding Brosh and Ross sequestered in an isolated hallway, the younger man crying quietly. 

“He was reminded of his little brother.” Ross supplied quietly, rubbing her friend’s back gently. 

Riza nodded, understanding, and set a reassuring hand on the man’s shoulder. “Relax, Denny.” She hummed. “I’m only going to take a small piece out with a needle that’s thinner than one of your hairs. I promise that he’ll be okay, hm?” She said. She wasn’t quite sure what about her drew the intern to her, but the young man caved and wrapped her arms around her tightly, his tears soaking her white lab coat. Startled, Riza paused for a moment, before gently returning the hug. 

“Go home, both of you.” Riza murmured once Brosh had collected himself. “You’ve done good work. Go home and don’t let me see you for another two days, you hear me?” She playfully threatened. Once she had received a watery smile from Brosh and reassurance from Ross, she let them go. 

-

One intern. 

Three hours and counting.

“You won’t catch me, Greed!” James chirped, swaying unsteadily on the hospital gurney as he was wheeled down to the operating room. 

“Brave words!” Than growled out playfully, pretending to chase the gurney. 

Their play fighting persisted until the last second, even when the anesthesia mask was lowered onto James’ face. “I’ll be back, Greed!” The little boy said, his words tainted with the sluggishness of his fatigue. Only when James’ eyes were firmly closed did Than make his way to the scrubbing station, right beside Hawkeye. 

“Greed?” It was a casual question from the woman, but also an opener. Out of all the interns, Than was the hardest for her to get a read on. 

“My name has connotations with greed in my native language. All the kids on the pediatric floor are supposed to be superheroes. Dr.Hughes is the ultimate superhero, I’m the super villain. Greed is my villain name. It helps for the kids to win something once in a while.” He murmured, and Riza was struck at the deep insight this man carried. The intern came off as rather arrogant and withdrawn, and she would have never guessed that he would have been so insightful and retrospective. 

“Then, let’s bring our superhero James back to vanquish Greed once and for all.” Riza commented casually, not noticing the way the intern brightened at her words. 

-

It was late when Riza came back to her office. Solaris was still there, slumped over the desk, her eyes closed in slumber. 

Riza had been anticipating coming back to an empty office, but was pleasantly surprised to see the girl still there. After all, she had specifically made her wait to see whether or not her position at the hospital had any value to her. 

Apparently it did. 

Riza gently set her books down, and the slight noise emitted made Solaris spring up, dark eyes alight in surprise. 

“Good morning,” Riza said, and despite her straight face, there was an undercurrent of a joke in her tone. “I don’t wish to keep you any more than I’ve already kept you, but let me make this clear, Solaris. I see potential in you. You were in such a rush to get the mass today, but you failed to realize that you needed suction to clear your workspace. I admire your drive and lust for surgery, but I’m still your superior, and my rules are set in my OR. You have tenacity and the knowledge needed to be a great doctor. Aside from a few changes that need to be made, you’re on the right track to a great career.But you have a decision to make. I’ll give you 24 hours. Either you decide that you want to stay at this hospital, or you leave. If you stay, I hope you understand that I will not make it easy on you. I will push you to prove to me that you are not just here because you slept with a superior, but because you truly deserve to be here. I assure you, that myself and everyone else will be echoing this sentiment when it comes to your position here. You may even find that I pale in comparison to the Chief.” She remarked, a small smirk crossing her features at the mention of Roy. 

“I’d also suggest you cut your extra-curricular activities with a certain Chief if this position has any value. And for future reference, you should avoid springing for men who have already been claimed.” The statement was short and sharp, but had the intended effect: Solaris nodded, and sprang to her feet. 

“I don’t need 24 hours. I’ll accept the position. I’ll prove to you that I deserve to be here.” Solaris murmured defiantly, and a small smile curved on Riza’s lips. 

“I look forward to it. Go home.” She ordered. 

With a newfound vigor and viewpoint, Solaris slipped out of her attending’s office. 

“Done?” A voice caught her attention: Than, leaning against the wall. 

“Yeah. I’m going to stay.” Solaris hummed, the question of why he was still there on the tip of her tongue. 

But she bit back any questions she might have had, instead following her colleague with his quiet “Come on, then.” 

-

Only a few paces behind the interns, Roy peeked into the office that Solaris had just left. 

“Did you have fun?” He asked cheekily. 

The woman reclining in the seat shot him an evil glare. “Interns are a handful.”

“They’re like little kids.”

“I think that I’d prefer little kids over them, any day.”

“I heard that Havoc got put in his place.” Roy said, eyes twinkling. 

“Did your informant have particularly red hair?” Riza raised a brow, ready to give Breda the same treatment. 

“Can’t say. Witness protection and all that. You heading out for the night?” 

“Just about to.”

“Well, come on, then.”

48 hours, no interns, no attendings. 

Just Riza and Roy. 

Like old times. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you thought! comments inspire me to write. 
> 
> catch me on tumblr @chai-and-coffee
> 
> drop a kudos if you enjoyed! 
> 
> ((royai history coming soon, i promise))


	8. - the culmination -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solaris ponders on the matter of her attending, Roy Mustang misses Riza, and things come to a boiling point.

Solaris isn’t quite sure what happened or when it happened, but she found herself to have an attending to shadow, to learn from, both inside the operating theater and outside. 

It was similar to the one Than and Dr.Hughes had, where Than followed Hughes around and learned everything from him. Than was confident that he wanted to go into pediatrics, and Hughes knew that. They had a good working relationship, and she’d seen Hughes hug Than more than once after a difficult surgery. 

Solaris wasn’t necessary close to Ross or Brosh for that matter, considering that she had been nothing but nasty to the two, but she knew that Ross was eyeing the Cardio spot, hoping to be like Chief Mustang. 

Brosh, on the other hand, was largely undecided, and was in the same boat as Kimblee. Solaris had been a part of that boat as well, until a few weeks ago. 

Now, it seemed as though she had an attending to tail, and she wasn’t quite sure how she got there. 

For one, Dr.Hawkeye was the type of attending that Solaris seemed to shy away from: Hawkeye appeared to be strict, with no patience for silly antics, but never unapproachable. That being said, she was also the woman who managed to put the entire board of Chiefs in their place. 

But there was more to the blonde woman than she had originally thought. For one, Hawkeye had immediately called her out on her bullshit, and then gave her a chance—something that no one would have done. 

Being her personal intern was different. Solaris was guaranteed to scrub in on neuro cases, and if she had done a particularly excellent job, then Hawkeye allowed her to attempt a few minor procedures in the OR. That didn’t mean that Hawkeye took it easy on her: because Solaris was directly being taught by her, Hawkeye always asked her the hardest questions, expected more of her. 

From the moment she stepped in the hospital to the time when she stepped out, Solaris was worked hard. But she always left Central Amestris Hospital with a sense of contentment, that she had done her work well. She always left with a question too: Was that how it was to be Riza Hawkeye?

And now that she was gone, Solaris was overwhelmed with a mind-numbing sense of loss. 

—

Okay, well, she wasn’t gone gone, but still, it felt like it. 

Hawkeye was gone for a conference, assigning her to Falman’s service, and as she tailed the man around with Ross, Solaris missed her attending like crazy. 

Sure, it was only three days, but still, it felt like an eternity. 

-

“Hey, Solaris.” The familiar country twang made her take pause, and she looked up from where she was checking on charts into the familiar baby blues of Dr.Havoc. 

“No.” Solaris said, indifferently, glancing back down at her work. 

“Aw, your attending isn’t here, if that’s what’s holding you back.” 

Solaris lifted her eyes to glare at the man, neatly fishing out her phone from her scrub pockets. Havoc raised head eyebrow as he saw her press her finger against the scanner, and once the phone had unlocked, tap a few commands in. His confused gaze grew as she raised the phone to her ear. Once the person on the other end had answered, she set the phone on the countertop between them, quickly tapping speaker. 

“Yes?” The unmistakable voice of Riza Hawkeye rang through. 

“Operation Country Boy, I Hate You,” Solaris called out for the woman to hear, a smirk growing on the intern’s lips. 

An audible sigh could be heard from Hawkeye before she began to speak. “Dr. Havoc, I firmly suggest you stop harassing my intern and get back to your duties. It seems as though our earlier conversation was not warning enough. We’ll be having a long conversation upon my return about whether or not you value your damn job, and whether or not you might be a sadist for being a blind son of a bitch, oblivious to your own feelings.” The irritation was clear in the woman’s voice. “I suggest you maintain a wide berth from my intern, Havoc.” 

Solaris mentally whoo-hooed at that, there was nothing more entertaining than watching Hawkeye put others in their place. Havoc barely managed to choke a reply out before hightailing it out of there. 

“Is he gone?” Hawkeye’s tired voice rang out. Solaris turned off the speaker function and raised the phone to her ear once more. 

“Yep. Looked very scared.” Solaris relayed. 

“Good. Everything okay there?”

You okay?

“Absolutely. Tired.”

Exhausting, come back soon. 

“Go see our friend if you need me. I’ll be back soon. Don’t burn the place down.”

“Try not to murder anyone.”

With a snort from Hawkeye, Solaris ended the call, feeling much lighter after her call. Her mentor was still there, her mentor was still coming back. 

Besides, Hawkeye told her to seek comfort from Rebecca in the event that she needed it. 

Ah, Rebecca. After a long conversation, Solaris had understood why Dr.Catalina had been so affected by her actions. Solaris had apologized to the woman on one of the evenings where Hawkeye had called her home for dinner. Both dark-haired ladies had cried and went on a spree of watching horror movies. Now, she and Dr.Catalina were somewhat friends outside of work, tied together by a strange country man who had an affinity for cigarettes. 

She wanted Havoc and Catalina to get together, but something told her that Hawkeye was already working towards that. 

“Was that Hawkeye I heard? Is she back?” The deep timbre of Chief Mustang startled Solaris out of her musings, the taller man looming over her. 

“Not yet, sir.” Solaris shook her head. 

“I see. Continue on.” Mustang hummed, turning and walking down the hallway, his face carefully composed as though in thought. 

Hm. It seemed like she wasn’t the only one missing Hawkeye after all. 

-

Roy Mustang was falling apart at the seams, and instead of her usual jibe, Solaris could only say that she felt the same way. 

Both intern and boss felt quite lost without the presence of Riza Hawkeye, though the latter seemed to be faring much, much worse. 

The next time she saw Chief Mustang was three hours later, when Solaris had been sitting on the edge of an unused gurney, reading up on the material that was sure to be on her upcoming intern examinations. 

The sight of him made her take pause and stick a finger between the pages of the textbook, her dark eyes fixating on the man before her.

Roy Mustang did not look…good. 

She could clearly start to see the makings of a 5 o’clock shadow on his face, his dark circles under his eyes were clear and more exaggerated, and the inward curling of his shoulders was a tell-tale sign that things were not going well with the Chief. 

He seemed casual enough, leaning against the nurse’s desk as he flipped through some charts and scrawled his signature, but the way he gripped his coffee and blearily rubbed his eyes was rather concerning. 

Ah, what the hell. He was probably tired like any self-respecting doctor. After all, it had been a busy day. 

She couldn’t have been more wrong. 

On Falman’s service, Solaris didn’t see the inside of the operating room as much as she would have liked. She doubted that she would have liked how Dr. Falman ran his operating room anyways, considering that no one could compare to Dr. Hawkeye’s gravitas. So she was content to stay outside and check on the doctor’s patients while Ross got to scrub in and learn. As Solaris was returning back from her rounds, she checked the OR board. Day two of Hawkeye being gone—she wasn’t sure if she wanted the woman to leave ever again. 

There wasn’t any interesting surgeries—but there was an interesting phenomenon. The chief seemed to doubling his usual surgeries—his name was on the board four times. It was clear that he hadn’t been the original surgeon, considering that the previous name had been hastily scrubbed out, and the slight glisten of the ink indicated that it was freshly written. 

She wondered if this was the worst-case scenario that Hawkeye had been talking about. 

“Listen here, and listen well. I’m not going to repeat myself.” Hawkeye had murmured as she had been packing her things. Solaris remembered the scene quite well, they had been in her office, with Solaris snacking on a few carrots that Hawkeye had offered. At the sound of her attending’s grave voice, Solaris had set down her carrots and perked up, showing that she was paying attention to the woman. 

“I’ll be gone for three days, which isn’t long, so you shouldn’t worry about getting too behind. I’ll catch you up when I come back. But remember, while I am gone, you are a representation of me. You are the only one on my service, and you are being vouched for me. So I don’t want to hear any complaints about you or your behavior, do you understand me?” 

Solaris had shrunk slightly at the threatening tone, but had nodded anyways. Hawkeye’s directions had felt a bit too much like a mom scolding a child. 

“During this time, I need you to check up on the patients. You can ask Hughes for help. You know how to check their vitals, their charts, and if you have to do something that I haven’t taught you, ask for help. You can ask Hughes, Falman or any of the Chiefs. Everyone except Havoc. I think you know where I stand on your romantic relationship with him.” The blond had looked up from where she had been packing a medical journal into her duffle bag. 

“Ew. I wouldn’t do that to Rebecca.” Solaris had sniffed, earning a small smile of approval from her attending. 

“Spend time with Catalina if you need someone. She has taken a liking to you. Even if you don’t need someone, drop by the apartment and check on her once in a while. Make sure she’s doing okay. Her favorite ice cream is that ridiculous peanut butter one.” Hawkeye had instructed. 

“It’s not ridiculous! It’s so good! It’s the perfect blend of…well, everything! But, yeah, got it.”

“And there’s one last person I need you to keep tabs on. I need you to make sure the Chief is doing okay. If it looks like he’s not his best, then it means that he’s either getting too tired to work or there’s something going on. If it gets very, very bad, to the point where you are concerned, then call me, okay?”

Solaris stared at the board, wondering if the Chief’s increased workload was a sign that Hawkeye had worried about. 

“What are you doing?” Than’s familiar voice sounded next to her, quiet and gentle. She blinked, realizing her colleague was right next to her. She tore her eyes from his tall figure staring at the board to back to the board. 

“Looking,” She answered simply. 

“I know, crazy, right? He threw Breda and Fuery out of their own surgeries and took them for himself. They weren’t mad, though. When I talked to Breda about it, he was just concerned.”

“That’s not good.” Solaris whispered to herself, her eyes widening as she realized the implications behind Than’s story.

“No, that isn’t.” Than agreed, a bit absentmindedly before glancing at her face. “Sol? Everything okay?”

Solaris didn’t even have enough time to chastise him for that nickname that she hated. “No, it’s not. I’ll fill you in later, I’ve got to go.” The girl said, running out of the OR as best as she could in her hospital mandated crocs. 

“Hello?” Two calls within two days. This had to be a record. 

“Dr. Hawkeye, it’s me, Solaris. I’m calling to tell you—well, about the Chief. It doesn’t look good. I mean, he doesn’t look good.” Solaris rushed to say, not even taking a breath as she sprinted down the hall and into a supply closet where she could talk in peace. 

Solaris heard the sound of a bag zipping and the clutter of items being thrown. “Talk to me. How exactly is he looking?” 

“Unkempt, unshaven. He’s signed up for four surgeries in a row, and it’s almost like he’s working himself to death.” Solaris relayed what Than had told her as well, trying to give her attending the complete picture. 

“I see. I’m on my way. Keep an eye on him, Solaris. Thanks.” The line went dead, Hawkeye’s voice seemingly rushed. The relief that crashed over the girl was almost enough to topple her over. Hawkeye was coming back, Hawkeye was on her way. The feeling that everything was slowly unravelling was going to be gone, everything was going to be okay. 

Feeling much lighter, Solaris made her way back to the gurney she had occupied a few hours prior, hoping to get a few hours of sleep before getting back on the grind. 

—

It was later that night that she saw Roy Mustang once more. She held the plastic tray in her hands, full of his favorite foods. 

She knocked once as best as she could with her elbow (What else could she do?! Her hands were full.) and when he answered with the affirmative, she pushed the door open and made her way to his desk, setting the tray down. 

All it took was one glance of the tray, and Roy Mustang knew. 

“What, did Hawkeye put you up to this?” He asked the already retreating intern. 

“More or less.” The intern answered, grinning as she slipped out the door. “Don’t worry, I called her. She’s on her way.” He heard before the door closed. 

The last statement made him take pause, the spoonful of pasta halting as he realized the implications of that statement. 

In less than half of a second, he was out the door, yanking it open so hard that it trembled on its hinges. “Excuse me?!” He said, feeling his temper culminate into an inferno. “You called her?!”

The startled intern spun around at the loud voice, eyes widening with a considerable amount of fear. “I mean—yes?” She answered hesitantly. 

“What are you, her spy? Who gave you the right to spy on me and call her?! Why the hell are you wasting her time, she has another day left at the conference!” Mustang’s voice was starting to take on the dangerous quality that everyone had warned Solaris about. 

“You weren’t looking well and she told me to!”

“What I do and when I do it is none of your business.” His voice was cold. 

Solaris distinctly heard a few doors open, the Chiefs peeking their heads out to see what was going on. Maybe even the elevator dinged open—? Great, more of an audience to watch her get yelled at. 

“I have no use for subordinates that cross boundaries. You’re fired.” The enraged man said fluidly, absolutely no hesitation. 

As Solaris’ mouth dropped open in surprise, another voice cut in. 

“No, she’s most definitely not.” 

Riza Hawkeye, standing there in all her glory. Her blond hair was up in her trademark red pin, her eyes seemed darker under the lights of the floor, and the marks of fatigue under her eyes didn’t detract from her strong stance and set jaw. 

“You two, in my office.” She hissed through gritted teeth. “_Now_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ROYAI HISTORY IS TWO CHAPTERS AWAY TWO CHAPTERS AWAY I TELL YOU
> 
> sorry for the late update, life kicked my ass
> 
> leave a kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> comments inspire me to write faster!!
> 
> follow me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


	9. -the confession-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riza confronts Roy. Roy reveals the crap that's been making him sadboi.

She was gorgeous. 

Blond hair spilled over her shoulder like golden tendrils, her eyes burning bright with indignation, and Roy Mustang could say without a doubt that Riza Hawkeye was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen in his life, ever when she was pissed at him.

“Now,” She hissed again, pointing down the hallway from which he had just emerged from, and Roy and Solaris stumbled to her office in unison. Hawkeye followed them, closing the door securely, and the click of the lock set the ominous tone for what was about to follow. 

“Sit.” She hissed, and Solaris sank down onto the floor obediently, while Roy made his way over to the couch and sank down. It didn’t escape him that her lips pursed together in a thin line when she saw him casually cross his legs. 

Good. A part of him was irrationally angry, upset that she had left him here to deal with…well, everything. She was his right hand, and he was left dealing with everything by himself. 

Hawkeye turned to Solaris first, the intern shriveling under her deadly glare. 

“I did what you asked—“ Solaris protested, almost as though it was a knee-jerk reaction. 

“I’m not upset at you.” Hawkeye cut her off, her tone softer but firm. “Next time, though, maybe don’t tell him that I asked a subordinate to watch over him. His ego might get too bruised. I want you to go home, take some rest. When you come back for your next shift, we’re going to have a conversation about maintaining your patience and not yelling at your superiors, even if they’re being particularly disagreeable.” 

Fair enough, considering that most of the hospital had heard Solaris’ answering shriek a few minutes before. 

The two women exchanged a few more words that were unheard by him, and Hawkeye even reached out to gently squeeze the young woman’s shoulder. That surprised him—she wasn’t one to initiate contact—they must have been closer than they let on. Soon, though, Solaris left, leaving him to deal with the angry woman that he was currently pissing off even more by pretending as though he was taking a nap. 

Seeing how Roy’s eyes were closed to emulate the charade, he didn’t know what was going on, the only thing he could hear was quiet rustling. Was she actually going to let him sleep? That didn’t seem to be in character—

Almost immediately, a cold spray of water hit him squarely on the face. At the presence of the liquid, Roy surged upwards, his eyes snapping open. A hand reached up and he scrubbed hastily at his face, trying to dry his face as best as he could. In front of him, Hawkeye tossed an empty water bottle neatly into a nearby recycling receptacle. 

“What the hell, Hawkeye?” He sputtered. 

“Don’t take me for a floozy, Mustang. I’m not someone to wait around. We’re going to have a talk, and we’re going to talk now.” She answered calmly. 

“Do I need to remind you who’s actually chief here?” He growled, feeling the shock of the unpleasant awakening melt away, replaced with red hot ire. 

“Please do, considering that I don’t see any signs of him anywhere. Instead, I’m faced with a two-year old with anger management issues and the emotional range of a teaspoon.” She hissed back. 

“Harry Potter.”

“Not now, Roy.” 

“See, what I don’t understand is why you had to send an intern to look after me. I’m not a fucking child, Riza. I can very well handle myself.”

“Is this what handling yourself looks like? Because if so, I should have actually sent someone to look after you. Have you taken a look at yourself recently? You haven’t shaven, you look gaunt, and it almost appears like you haven’t had a solid meal in over a year. Not only are you presenting a bad impression of yourself to those you interact with, but also you’re a bad reflection of our hospital. Please get off your high horse Roy. I only told Solaris to look out for you when I was gone, not for her to demean you in any way.” She spat, the words flowing quite smoothly from her lips. 

“I don’t need to be looked after.” Roy repeated, now sullen. He didn’t enjoy this, the way she was talking to him. He understood. He knew what he was doing. He didn’t need her to tell him. 

“That’s not the impression that you’re giving me.”

“Enough!” Roy rose, temper once again flaring. “I don’t have to prove myself to you or to anyone for that matter. I’m sick and tired of everyone meddling in my business.”

“What is that supposed to mean? This is the only time that this is being brought up—“ Riza protested. Roy, feeling as though he said too much, shut up quite quickly. He dropped back down to the couch, arms crossed tightly. The clench of his jaw and narrow of his eyes was a clear indication that he didn’t intend to expound on his earlier statement anymore than he already had. 

Riza pinched at the bridge of her nose, almost as though she was trying to ward off the onset of a headache. How did something so simple as a lookout go so south? She couldn’t help but feel as though there was more to the story, a link that she wasn’t quite seeing. 

“Roy,” She began, adopting a placating tone. 

“No. Don’t use that tone with me. Tell me what you have to tell me, and that’s it. We’re done for today.” 

“Roy,” She repeated, undeterred. 

“Riza,” He mocked, his face contorted into the sneering mask that she knew he used when he was trying to be particularly vindictive. 

But—there was nothing to fight about—not really. Sure, he could be upset, but stretching it to this level was rather dramatic. It was almost as though he was trying to distance her, deter her. 

“I’m trying to help you.” She snapped, irritated. 

“I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help, especially not help from you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” 

“Did I stutter? I don’t want or need your help, Riza! You left. You leave. It’s what you did then, it’s what you’ll do now. So please, spare me the time-wasting and just do what you always do. Leave.” The words were tinged with such a venom that she had no doubt that they were true. 

“Are you kidding me? Are you throwing a hissy fit right now because I left for a conference? Grow up, Roy.” 

“It’s what you always do.You leave.” Roy curled forward, head ducking. Suddenly the conversation wasn’t quite about the conference anymore. The implications of his earlier statement sunk in its full extent. He was talking about how they used to be…and something else. Why would she leave him now? There was no reason to.

“What’s going on Roy?” Riza asked, internally wincing at how accusing her voice sounded. There was no spiteful rebuttal to her question. In fact, Roy didn’t respond at all. His head remained ducked, but when Riza saw the slight tremor of his shoulders, she knew that they were in uncharted territory. Her suspicions were confirmed: there was something else going on. 

She made her way to the door, meaning to lock it to prevent interruptions, when her keen eyes caught the slight hint of a shadow. She yanked the door open so quickly that the hinges rattled. In front of her, the interns were standing, it being quite obvious that they had been eavesdropping. Bross was pressed against the floor, ear crushed against the small sliver of an opening near the bottom of the door. Ross was on Than’s shoulders, trying to get a vantage point from a greater height. Solaris was peeking out from around the corner, eyes apologetic. Had she been any other situation, Riza might have even found the situation funny. 

But now was not the time. She had one Roy Mustang who was falling apart while keeping something that was practically eating him alive, and now was not the time to deal with nosy interns. With a calm tone, Riza opened her mouth to deliver the threat that would send shivers of fear down all the interns’ spines. 

“You all have five seconds to get the hell away from this door and away from me before I have to file several reports for why I issued and delivered on threats of body harm.” 

She didn’t even get to three. 

With that taken care of and the door firmly closed and locked, Riza turned to her fractured Chief. 

“Roy,” she called, trying to get to his attention as she made his way over to him. He was crying—and as soon as she reached a close proximity, he leaned up, wrapping his arms around her. She could feel him trembling, the almost desperate manner in which he clung to her. 

“What happened?” She asked quietly, squeezing him tightly in return. 

He told her. 

With the transfer of hospital power from Grumman to Roy, there had been a lapse in one contract. Apparently with the resignation of Grumman, the power of the hospital had the option to be contested—and it was. Roy’s power was currently being challenged by a greater corporation, headed by the tycoon CEO Bradley. The man was quite famous for having a variety of businesses—and most were that—just businesses. Everything was an aspect for him to make more money and gain more power. 

He had his eyes set on Amestris Central Hospital for a few reasons: one, because the proximity to the main branches of government could put him in a favorable position with the leaders of the country, two because it was easily the best hospital in the entire nation. The profits and prestige associated with the hospital was close to innumerable, and Bradley could gain a serious reputation if he acquired the group. 

At a certain point, Roy even untangled himself from her and grabbed the contract, pointing to the clause that Bradley and his army of lawyers was hinging their case on. 

Clause VII, Section II: With the shift in power from the Chief of the hospital to another, third parties and other interest groups have the option to bid for a stake. 

Of course, this was usually in a reference to investments, of companies wanting to dedicate their finances to the development of something. And technically, Bradley was playing by the rules: the only thing different was that his stake wasn’t a fraction or a small percentage, it was 100%. 

Bradley had given him an ultimatum of three months, and Roy, the poor man, had been wracking his brain and suffering alone for the past two months. He admitted that he had thought about asking for help on multiple occasions, but held out in the sole hope that he’d be able to figure it out before it got to that level. 

The thought of the hospital ending up in the notorious megalomaniac’s clutches was enough to make Riza’s face set into an expression of determination. This was her hospital—she’d do what she had to do to make sure that it remained that way. 

-

Things were left quite unresolved that night. Neither of them apologized for their earlier comments, but both bade each other good night as they parted ways. The next morning, things were rather tense. Their communication was rather stilted, as though they weren’t quite sure whether they were allowed to go back to their familiar way of speaking after their fight. 

Roy, nevertheless was surprised when he saw a tired Riza lounging across the couch in his office later that night. 

“Did we schedule another yelling session? I don’t remember marking it on my calendar.” He said hesitantly, closing the door behind him. 

The look that she gave him said enough. “We’re going to save the hospital. We can’t do that by throwing tantrums.” 

And so, their “study sessions” began. Riza would come to his office, both of them would pour over the contract and other legal documents, trying to piece together some kind of last resort to help them maintain in control of their hospital. 

They had even debated causing some kind of damage to the hospital so that it would deter Bradley from buying them. (But then again, both had agreed that Bradley had the money and means to repair whatever damage they caused.) 

Most of their solutions were borderline unethical, something that didn’t settle well with either of them. After a particular solution that involved numerous patient confidentiality violations, Roy threw his head back, groaning. 

“Fuck. We’re never going to get out of this.” He cursed. Based on the way Riza didn’t reprimand him for his uncouth and pessimistic statement, he could only assume that she felt the same way. There was only seven more days left, and the crunched deadline was sitting especially heavier on their shoulders. 

As the 21 days had dwindled to 14 and less, the two had gotten into the habit of opening a bottle of alcohol to aid them in their extensive paperwork journey. Tonight, it was a bottle of tequila that had been a gift from Falman for Roy’s promotion. It was rather ironic and twisted, but neither of them commented on the symbolism as they passed the bottle back and forth. 

They worked, curled over stacks and stacks of pamphlets and tomes that weighed more than them combined. Roy sifted through papers, wondering if the answer would jump at him magically. It would help if the solution was brightly highlighted, please and thank you. Riza, sitting next to him, was reading up on the legal proceeding of a business seizure, but had no such luck. 

At a certain point, the letters began to run into one another, and the drowsiness onset by the tequila wasn’t helping. 

“Let’s call it a night.” Roy lifted his head, feeling the muscles around the nape of his neck twinge in irritation. He massaged the sore spot, blinking his bleary eyes as he glanced around to check the time. Three in the morning—and neither of them were in any state to make the journey home. 

Riza nodded, neatly sticking a leaf of paper as a bookmark, slamming the cover shut. She set the book down, before stretching her lithe body across the couch. She gracefully accepted the blanket offered to her, and didn’t comment as Roy stretched himself onto the floor, covering himself with a blanket as well. Neither of them spoke for a few moments as the light was clicked off, drenching them into the darkness. 

“Thank you.” Roy mumbled. 

“For what?”

“For not leaving.” 

The “_like you did before_” wasn’t added to his explanation, but Riza heard it nevertheless. 

Both of them didn’t sleep too well, plagued by memories of the past. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops--college apps got a bit too heavy. 
> 
> ROYAI HISTORY STARTING NEXT CHAPTER UWUWWUWUUWUWUWUW ARE YALL READY?
> 
> leave a comment, kudos! 
> 
> catch me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


	10. summer shenanigans - flashback one.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FLASHBACK NUMBER ONE: 
> 
> The first summer when Roy and Riza meet for the first time. 
> 
> Roy is thirteen, Riza is twelve going on thirteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, there's a reason why Riza's town seems to be old-timey. I want there to be a progression of modernization through the chapters, and see the fall from grace for the Hawkeye family. 
> 
> ps. there's a small symbol (or two!) that will keep reappearing in all flashbacks. keep an eye on it!

The blue dress stood out against her skin. It wasn’t the type of blue that the soldiers wore, no, it was a soft shade, ones that reminded her of the soft icing that covered the sweets, the blue of the sky that was gentle on the eyes. The dress itself was gorgeous and in fashion at that time, featuring swooping skirts and laces and ruffles. Riza enjoyed it dearly, spinning around in the mirrors to catch her reflection and the flutter of her skirt. She truly loved the dress, with its silky texture and hidden pockets, but maybe she loved it because her mother had gotten it for her. 

She remember it clearly, after all. Her mother, standing tall and prim in her peach dress, smiling down at her and slyly winking when she pointed out the dress had pockets. Riza was the type to prefer trousers and looser blouses and shirts over any other choices, but this dress had been the exception. The ladies had fawned over it when Riza had stepped out to greet them during their visits for tea, but the proud smile on her mother’s lips made it worthwhile. 

Her father enjoyed the dress, too. When she was younger, he used to twirl her around, just to see the skirt flare out. Those were the days. Riza remembered the parties that the three of them would attend, usually resulting in Berthold Hawkeye having a sleepy child on his lap and a sleepy wife leaning against him.

Riza wasn’t sure the last time she wore the dress. With the burial of her mother, the dress too was exiled to a dark corner of her closet, never to be found for a while. Other conservative choices that featured darker colors and less childlike couture choices were worn. It wasn’t surprising that these dresses didn’t evoke any smiles from the ladies who saw her—it was a constant reminder that she was in grief, constantly in mourning. 

She wasn’t quite sure why her father had asked her to wear it today—it had taken her quite a bit of time to find the dress, and quite a bit of time to wriggle it on. To the 12 year old’s dismay, the dress made her look like her adolescent counterpart, silly, frilly and…._childish_. 

Other girls would have been rather dull that the dress fit the same around her chest, but Riza had never been one to care much about what the other girls were thinking about. She had much more important things to focus on. But as she glanced at herself in the mirror, eyes catching on the faded blue that had replaced the once glorious color, she couldn’t help but feel that the dress was quite unflattering on her frame. But her father had insisted, and she wasn’t about to invoke his wrath anytime soon. 

“Riza!” Her father hollered, his voice carrying quite well upstairs. Immediately, Riza left her room, scurrying down the stairs as best as she could without making a noise. She located her father standing in their living room, and stepped in cautiously, ignoring the other two figures in the house diligently. 

“Here, Father.” She said quietly. 

Her father glanced at her for a moment, but there was no hint of recognition when his eyes passed over the dress. “Riza, this is Roy Mustang. When you were younger, we used to have a neighbor, this is her son. His aunt is sending him here every summer to get some culture. Introduce yourself and take him upstairs to the spare bedroom.” 

Riza finally turned to face the two figures, one being a smaller boy around her age, full with dark hair and eyes to match. The peculiar slanting of his eyes was an indication that he wasn’t from around town, and Riza made a mental note to look in her history books to find a clue. There was no expression on his face, none that indicated whether he was pleased or disgusted to be here. The figure by him must have been a companion, a young woman with curly brown hair that bowed and excused herself from the room. 

“Hello, I’m Riza Hawkeye.” She waved. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you up to your room.” She said, and by the slight incline of his head, he understands. She left the room, the strange boy hot on her heels, and ascended the stairs for the second time. It was only when she was leading him down the hallway that he spoke to her. 

“You don’t look too comfortable.” He hummed, slightly huffing with the exertion of carrying his trunk of things up the stairs. 

Riza turned, a look of surprise on her face. How did he know? “I’m not. This dress is uncomfortable.” 

He nodded, as though he knew exactly what she meant. “I’m Roy Mustang. I’m thirteen and three quarters.” He said proudly, his chest puffing out slightly. 

Three quarters? Riza had never heard of such a manner to count your age. 

“I’m Riza. I’m just twelve, I guess. This is your room.” She gestured to the door across from hers. He paused, glancing at her door. Once upon a time, there had been various embellishments, featuring a glittery sign with her name, stickers, and the regular signs of a childhood, but that had been a fact of before. Not now. 

“Nice to meet you.” He said, and gave her a little wave before disappearing into his room. 

—

It didn’t take him long to settle in. Roy Mustang was the type of person to blend in seamlessly with the world he was surrounded by. He woke up every morning and joined his new friends, a group of boys that seemed rather entranced by the city-slicker. They debated vicariously, skipped stones, flirted. But they weren’t rowdy by any means. When Riza washed the dishes, she could peek over the window, catch a few glances of him and his gang. 

Riza had anticipated that the others of the town would grow to develop a dislike of the boys, but they soon became the darlings of the people. Men would look at them and chuckle, remembering their distant days of boyhood. Women were wooed by the boys’ eagerness to help them with this or that. The other girls were quite excited to have new prospects to fawn about and doodle in their notebook. Little boys and girls followed Roy around, ready to join his ever-growing group. 

He never came home empty handed. Often times, Riza could see the telltale syrup of the baker’s pastries on his lips, or a shiny rock turning in his hand. His souvenirs would never be in her sight for long, they were quickly tucked within the confines of his room. 

The dinners within the Hawkeye household were different as well. Before Roy, Riza used to sit with her father in silence for her meals. If her father decided to drink, the night would be accompanied by his customary berating and criticism. 

But now, Roy and her father talked during dinner. The man refused to talk to his own daughter, yet was ready to engage in conversation with a complete stranger. Riza melted into the background. Her father didn’t notice when she left without excusing herself. Roy always did, his eyes always followed her out. 

It was hard not to detest the boy. After all, he had everything that she had longed for. What was it that set her apart from him? The fact that she was a girl and he was a boy? In Riza’s order of things, the presence of Roy Mustang was a cruel joke that the world was playing on her, a punishment for her to realize that her dreams were futile. 

—

The day began like no other—but it was a different one. Riza tugged on the boyish crop of hair, willing the blonde strands to be tucked into the cap that rested on her head. She studied herself in the mirror, pleased with the androgynous figure that stared back at her. No one would pay her too much mind this way, and any distinguishing features were hidden quite well. 

Riza had finished her chores a few hours earlier and had quickly peeked in her father’s study to ask for his permission. He had allowed her to, provided that she came back within her regular curfew. He didn’t say anything else, even after she lingered in the doorway for a few more moments in the expectation that he would. 

But as Riza stepped out the door, feeling the sun warm the planes of her face, she felt a presence on her left. “Where are you going?” Roy asked, glancing down at her. “And why are you dressed like that?”

“The town. And none of your business. Where’s your gang?” Riza asked, failing to keep the spite out of her voice. If Roy realized that she wasn’t the biggest fan of him, he didn’t mention it. 

“Ah, they’ve gone to help Miss Adler with her living room. I thought there were way too many of us, so I decided to step out.” He said, quite cheerfully. Despite her quick strides, he kept pace with her. 

“Are you….coming with me?” Riza asked, a bit incredulously. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Not really, it’s the summer. Besides, we barely see each other.” Roy shrugged, as though his answer was the most obvious statement in the universe. “I won’t bother you, miss, I promise. I’ll be as quiet as I can.” He bowed theatrically, adopting the airs that people of the town usually put on. 

Riza shook her head, comforting herself with the fact that once Roy saw how simple and plain her day was, he would leave. 

Riza’s first stop was the grocer—she needed a few greens and spices for tonight’s dinner. The process was expedited since everyone mistook her for a boy, and no questioning glances were thrown her way. 

Riza was quite content to wander, taking samples of apple slices and crisp water from the townspeople. At certain points, she forgot that Roy was even by her side, and would only remember when he would touch her arm and indicate to something that had caught his attention. 

The late-July sun blazed down, but the cool sanctuary of shade saved the two. The cool glass of the jeweler was quite comforting as well, Riza’s fingertips pressed against the cool surface. Her eyes caught on a small necklace in the display, a delicate silver chain housing a circle. A twisted piece of metal resided within the circle, meant to emulate a flame. 

“What are you looking at?” Roy’s voice broke her out of her fixation, and she quietly gestured. 

“That one? It’s nice. Go buy it.” He hummed, once he had found the one she had indicated to.

“No, it’s okay. I just thought it was pretty.” Riza mumbled. Despite giving her a look that he didn’t really believe her, Roy didn’t say anything. 

She didn’t really ignore him after that. 

By the time the sun was starting to bid its farewell to the town, Riza and Roy had grown into an amicable partnership for the day. Riza had gotten comfortable enough to allow her hair to breathe, away from the confines of her hat, and found that the townspeople weren’t as nosy as she had made them out to be. 

“Roy, let’s go eat something from the baker! Some of his pastries.” Riza tugged on his sleeve, and the two excited children ran over to the round-faced man who was more than happy to oblige them with a few sweet treats. 

They had decided to split both in two, so that both of them would be able to try each other’s. Roy was trying the sweet cream glaze, and Riza was tearing into a strawberry filled confection. 

“Riza?” 

“Mmm?”

“Why did you go out today? You usually don’t go out…that’s why I’m asking.” Roy asked, rushing to get his words out. His expression was careful, as though he wanted to avoid offending her. 

Riza glanced up, sucking the strawberry filling off of her index finger. “It’s my birthday today. I’m thirteen today.” 

“Well, happy birthday.” Thousands more of questions flooded Roy’s head, but he decided to refrain from asking them.

Riza didn’t complain when Roy generously gifted her the second half of his pastry, allowing her to finish all three pieces. 

It was late night when Riza got ready for bed and heard a gentle knock at her door. Curiously, she opened it to find a bashful Roy grinning at her in the dark. 

“I have something for you.” He grinned and held out a small box. “Go ahead, open it!” 

Riza took the box gently, feeling the velvet slide and slip against her fingers. She slowly pulled the box open to reveal the necklace with the small flame that she had admired earlier. 

“It’s so nice—but why do you have it?”

“You’re supposed to get gifts, on your birthday, Riza. So this is my gift to you. Do you like it?” Roy asked earnestly. 

“I do, I love it, but—“

“No buts. This is yours. Happy birthday.” He murmured. 

She spent an hour laying awake, stroking the pendant that rested against the hollow of her throat. 

—

“You’ll come back, won’t you?” Riza asked, a month later. 

“Of course. Every summer.” Roy promised easily, halfway on the train already. His bags were packed and resting near his feet. Part of the skin on his face was peeling from how much he stayed in the sun. “Don’t look so sad, Riza, I’ll be back before you know it.” 

“Promise?” Riza asked.

Roy grinned, and reached out, slipping his pinky around hers in the city fashion that he had taught her. “Promise. Study well in school. When I get back, we’re going to have more adventures.” 

“More pastries this time. I think we need to ask the Baker to come up with new creations.” Riza added, nodding her head in agreement. 

The two shared a small smile, and soon the train was off, leaving Riza to twirl her necklace, watching the train grow smaller and smaller as it sped off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops this is late late
> 
> leave a comment! let me know what you thought
> 
> drop a kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> follow me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


	11. lingering letters - flashback two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A progression of Roy and Riza through the years. Letter exchanging, and the beginning of the tension. 
> 
> WARNING: subtle mention of abuse.

He’s sixteen and she’s fifteen when he came back for his fourth summer, and she was waiting for him. Long gone were the boyish pieces of apparel that she used to wear, and to be honest, he kind of missed it. But there’s no denying that she looked lovely now, wearing a gentle periwinkle dress that floats gracefully to her ankles. It was cinched at the waist and gave her a full shape, and she was much more at ease in this fabric than in the dress that he had seen her when they had first met. 

Her face broke out in a brilliant smile at the sight of him getting down from the train, and he couldn’t help it, a same smile grew on his lips too. He set a gentle hand on the boyish crop of hair, ruffling it slightly (while ignoring the disgruntled squawk from his friend), before yanking her into a tight hug. 

“I’ve missed you.” Riza whispered, her voice slightly muffled by his shoulder. He simply squeezed her tightly. “Me too, Riz. Me too.” 

They pulled away only when they heard the announcement for the next train, and they only left because they weren’t in the mood to get jostled by the incoming families and the others disembarking from the train. The two linked arms as they walked out, feet pattering in unison on the pavement. 

“Shall we go home?” Roy asked, mindful of the way his suitcase bumped against his thigh. 

Riza paused, and then shook her head. “We can return later, in the evening. Let’s go to our spot instead. Race you there!” She giggled. Despite wanting to put his things down and take a nap in a real bed, Roy was happy to see the youthful vibrance return to his friend’s face, and didn’t mind as he chased her all the way down to their spot, a small nook under a great tree, just a few minutes away from her father’s estate. 

She won by a landslide, and despite “working out” the entire year, Roy was out of breath when he caught up to her. He blamed the added weight. 

“Sit, sit, sit! It’s time for your welcome, Mr.Mustang.” Riza grinned. The two had begun a tradition of them discussing the year’s happenings in this little nook. They had talked about the most basic of things, of colors and political opinions to things were in dark in nature. Roy humored her, taking his seat across from her. She leaned against the dark bark of the tree—a position that would have been uncomfortable. Their tree was rather jagged, full of edges that enjoyed poking and prodding into tender flesh. 

Roy, on the other hand, was doing somewhat fine in his cushy seat on the grass. He sprawled out on his right side, facing her, using his arm to prop him up. The sunlight reflected off her form, coating her in an ethereal glow. A glint of metal around her neck was the only indication of the flame pendant that he had gotten her during their first meeting.

Their conversation winded from topic to topic, discussing both of their academic performances, new friends, new enemies, lost friendships. At a certain point, they talked about the sweets that they were yearning to try—the city was no short of delicious confections for them to enjoy. 

They were laughing, Riza gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, when Roy’s eyes caught on a mark. 

A dark blemish. 

He surged upwards, his hand neatly curling around her cheek. His grasp was tender, as though he was scared of breaking her. His thumb extended out, barely grazing the mark. He ignored the color that flooded Riza’s face, the chagrin of being caught. 

“I thought you said that he was getting better.” Roy said, the anger in his voice perceptible. The bruise was fresh, and based on the way she winced, it was very new. 

“He—He has these moments. Where he’s like my real father, the one that I knew when I was younger. But then he slips and.. I don’t know, Roy. He’s my father.” She whispered, not quite meeting his eyes. 

“Riza.” His voice was pained. 

“Roy.” She matched his staccato style of pronouncing her name. “You’re here now. You know he’s better when you’re around.”

He couldn’t deny her that one. “We’ll leave.” He announced suddenly. “We’ll leave, have a good life in the city. Your dad likes me anyways, so he’ll trust me. You can finally meet my mom and my dozens of sisters.” 

Riza grinned at that one, and despite the hope that filled her, she was always the more rational one of the two. “You’re not even of age yet, and I’m one year younger. How are we even going to do that?”

“Eh.” Roy waved her concerns off. “We have all summer to plot and plan.” 

With amusement sparkling in her eyes, Riza rose, beckoning him to follow her. They made their way back up to the Hawkeye house, matching grins on their faces, hands intertwined. 

-

The summer wasn’t long enough to contain their antics. Soon, Roy was back on the train, a regretful look on his face. The expression on Riza’s face was one of reluctant acceptance. This was their cycle of things, their routine. And as long as things continued in their regular cyclical timeline, she’d be content. 

“I’ll write!” Roy called, practically dangling out of the train as it began to move. 

“Please do! Don’t forget!” Riza said, leaning up on her toes at the thought of receiving letters from Roy. It would be a way to bridge the distance between them. 

“I’m coming for you, Miss Hawkeye! I swear it! We’ll get away from it all. You and me. We’ll make it work.” He called out. Despite the fact that his form was getting smaller as he moved farther and farther away, Riza could practically see the intense look of determination that was sure to be forming on his face. 

“Come soon, Mister Mustang! I’m waiting.” She hollered, which drew a few dirty looks from those around her, but she didn’t quite mind. She would get out of here with her favorite person in the entire would, and things would be okay. 

-

Dear Miss Hawkeye,

That sounds so odd. I’ll just settle for calling you Riza instead. I’m not one for formalities, you know. 

I’ve reached home (obviously), and my family is at the height of their craziness. My mother is insisting that I work a few shifts on the weekdays, pull my own weight, but I’d rather be roaming around town with the boys. Marcus and Alex are going off to college soon, so we’re losing two of our members. It’s the last time I’ll get to spend with them. 

Did you hear that there’s notion of a war in the distance? Apparently one of Amestris’ sectors is getting quite vocal in their reluctance with the regime. Alex was pretty worried when he was telling us about it. Marcus and the other boys think it’s fake, but I don’t know. When I asked my aunt, she just pursed her lips and told me to go wipe some tables, like I was a little kid again. 

Not to change the subject, but when I left, I made a certain….proposition. Were you truly serious about that, or were you just saying it to humor me. 

Hope everything is well with you. Give my hello to your father. Keep me updated. 

Yours, 

Roy

-

Dear Mister Mustang,

Ha! I couldn’t even write that without laughing. It’s better that we address each other as Riza and Roy anyways, we’re not that old to be that formal. 

Thank you for the sweets that you hid under my bed for my birthday. I was digging around late last night, needing something to snack on, and the chocolates you had stashed away definitely satisfied my craving. 

Your writing has changed—gone back to the city-slicker Roy, have we? My writing seems so tight and old fashioned when compared to yours—something that I think I’ll have to work on. 

School has started once again. Everyone seems so immature around me—their pranks are so boring. Girls are constantly chattering about something or the other, and the boys are either discussing various “boyish” pursuits or ranking all the girls in class. To be frank, I heard Martha Ranais talking about her face powder for fifteen minutes straight, and now the mention of the beauty item makes my blood boil.

Give Marcus and Alex my best. Doesn’t Alex have a lover? Are they going to the same college? I know that you think asking about your friends’ love lives isn’t really appropriate for you, but it’s something that I’d like to stay updated on. 

About the war… I’m not quite sure. No one’s discussing it here, and you know my father isn’t one to discuss such things with me. I’d say to stay alert and aware of what’s happening—you have more information than most people. Don’t get too worried, but don’t dismiss it too easily either. Don’t get irritated with your aunt and her strange ways—you know better than I do that it’s her protective instinct. 

About your proposition, no, I was not saying it simply to soothe you at the time. If you are serious, then I am as well. Is this your way of proposing? Atleast it’s better than Roger Davis—he gave Amaretta Wilkins a box of limes and said that she made his lips pucker up. 

(She still dated him anyways.)

Do well in school. Come back soon, I miss you already. 

Always, 

Riza

-

Riza,

This letter is short and hurried because I’m writing this in class. I’ll send you a longer and fleshed out letter later. 

First off, I’d like to apologize for my lackluster proposal. When I see you in person, I’ll be sure to do it right. 

I mentioned our change in circumstance to my friends, and they laughed at me for still calling you by your first name. All of them send their love, especially because of the sweets you sent the last time, and wish me to call you one of those ridiculous pet names. 

Currently they’re debating between sweetie and honey, and I find them ridiculous. You aren’t candy. 

Personally, I enjoy “love”. 

(If that’s alright with you, of course.)

Yours, 

Roy

-

Roy, 

Love is perfectly fine. I rather like the sound of it honestly. 

Happy birthday. You didn’t think that I’d forget, did you? Seventeen. Feels so surreal—I still remember when we met when we were kids. We're adults. When did that happen?

Enclosed is a gift for you to share with your friends (the baker was more than happy to package his pastries for you). There’s another gift as well, more for you. I hope the kiss I’ve enclosed is satisfactory. I looked quite ridiculous, lining my lips with tint and pressing them to the paper. 

Ah, the things you do for love. 

Send a longer letter when you have time, you must be busy. No rush, I await patiently. 

Forever Your “Love”, 

Riza

\- 

Roy, 

It’s been a week since your last letter. Have things gotten so hectic? I heard that you might be taking your exams around this time, so I hope that you studied well. You’ll do well. 

My father asked about you today at the dinner table, and when I mentioned that we were writing regularly, he seemed rather contented. I think he suspects something between us, but it’s not something that he’s opposed to. He sends his best, and says that he awaits you this summer. 

I’ve finished my exams. I think I did well—but I’m not sure about the mathematics one. The first paper was rather okay, but the second one threw me for a complete loop. It covered topics that I hadn’t reviewed or studied. 

Everything is settling down on this front, and I hope it’s settling down for you. How are you and your friends? Did you get my last parcel? Write back soon. 

With love,

Riza

-

Roy,

It’s been two weeks now without a letter. To soothe my conscience, could you write back? A quick sentence on a scrap of paper, a quick affirmation that you are alive and receiving my letters.

Love, 

Riza

-

Roy, 

Three weeks now. Please write back. I’m worried. 

Riza

\- 

Riza, 

The suspicions about the war are no longer suspicions. Amestris is going head to head with the Ishvalans. My aunt no longer has the means to support me, and it’s high time that I break away and support myself. I’m a man, after all. I want to feel like one, I want to pull my own weight. 

I’m enlisting. I won’t be able to keep in touch for much longer. 

Best, 

Roy

\- 

She didn’t write back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAA. AAAAA. I'm VERY SORRY THAT THIS IS SO LATE. I WILL BE UPDATING I SWEAR I SWEAR. 
> 
> Shoutout to @neitherawakenorasleep for giving me some Grey's prompts! There's one in here, wink wonk.
> 
> LoOOOTs of symbolism this chapter hehehehehehe. 
> 
> Drop a comment, let me know what you thought. Have any theories? Spill it and fill it. 
> 
> Drop a kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> As always, catch me on tumblr @chai-and-coffee


	12. dangerous decisions - flashback three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riza's nineteenth birthday holds many challenges, many decisions for her to take. 
> 
> One even catalyzes it all. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE

Home. 

For years, philosophers had wondered about the sense of home and what it was tied to. They tied it to the only thing they knew: knowledge. (Unless, of course, you believed that nothing was real). 

Home fascinated the psychologists too—they wondered how a variety of different circumstances in someone’s home could change a person. They tied the significance of home to the place where one resided, not where one felt the safest. 

Romance authors took the time to coin people as homes. It was always the cheesiest line in the book, to refer to someone as their home, but drove the point across. 

You see, the medium across all fields of learning was that home, at its standard level, was a place of security, a place where needs were met. 

But for Riza Hawkeye, she had no home. 

The towering structure of Hawkeye Manor hadn’t felt like home in years. She could attribute the lack of connection to her childhood shelter to the passing of her mother, but largely, the reason was dominated by her father. 

And now, at eighteen, things were no different. 

The war raged on outside her little town—what had originally been thought as a quick war raged on, reaching its two year anniversary quite quickly. She tried not to think about it as much, for obvious reasons, but the signs were quite apparent anywhere she looked. School was practically barren, with young boys either signing off the join the military or young girls moving to the cities to support troops. 

People were more suspicious now. Gone were the friendly smiles that spanned from face to face—lips were tight, eyes were always narrowed in distrust. 

Riza noticed it, all the signs present on her walk back from the baker’s shop. Normally, she would save, never indulge in something so petty and trivial as sweets—but tomorrow would mark her nineteenth birthday and she felt it appropriate to mark the occasion. 

Riza was in no rush to return back to her Manor, the walls resembling more and more of that of a prison. She never knew what awaited her on the other side. 

Today, it seemed, was mania. 

“Elizabeth!” A throaty growl reverberated throughout the house right as she entered. She quickly set the small parcel on the side table as the door closed behind her. 

“Father, I’m home.” She called out, maintaining her composure despite the fear that shot up in her voice. She walked into the main living room, where the emaciated body of her father glared up at her from the couch. 

“You left me with Riza again.” He hissed. “I don’t know how to deal with her. She’s been crying all night.” 

He definitely was out of it. The sun would have been shining inside had he not covered the windows with heavy drapery, and he had gone back to referring to Riza as her late mother. 

“I’ll go check on her.” Riza hummed, hoping that it would be enough of an excuse to slip away and stay upstairs. 

She could feel her father’s beady gaze as she ascended the stairs, or what was left of them. In his anger, Berthold Hawkeye was quite prone to destroying furniture or pieces of the house. The banister was clear evidence of this: certain portions of the once-glossy oak were missing, coating the steps in fractured splinters. The stairs themselves shook whenever someone approached. Amongst other casualties to Berthold’s fits of rage was their dinner plates, dining room table, and bookshelf. 

She hurried down the hallway and heaved a sigh of relief once she was contained within the relative safety of her own room. For some reason, Berthold never stepped into her room, thus being the only safe location. She cursed slightly when she realized that she had left the parcel downstairs—but to go downstairs to get it would mean another interaction with her father yet again. She’d have to wait until he locked himself in the study to go downstairs to get it yet again. 

Riza sank down on her bed, the mattress creaking quietly under her weight. Her hands neatly clasped in her lap, and her tawny eyes scanned the room. In desperate attempts to keep herself afloat, she’d had to sell so much. Her room was bare now, only a few things left to remind her of the luxuries and comfort that she’d once had. 

She didn’t miss it as much as she thought. It was far easier to maintain simple dresses than the lovely laces and silks that she had gotten from her mother. As for the jewelry, they had found better homes on girls who could wear and appreciate them. 

No, the only thing that she missed was having abundant things in her room to remind her of her mother’s soothing presence. Now she was left with only a few choice things that would have to go if their financial situation worsened. 

There, in the safety of her own room, Riza allowed her mind to wander. Unsurprisingly, she allowed it to wander off to Roy. After his final and curt letter, they had ceased all communication. She had no idea where he was, what he was doing, and if he was even alive. A large part of her hated him for leaving her, but a part of her harbored affection. After all, he was hers, and she was his. They’d work out their differences, but now was not the time. Not when his attention was so wholly captured with the onslaught of the war. 

She’d be patient. She’d wait. He’d come in her time of need, and she’d come in his. That was how they were, and that was what she decided to put her faith in.

Her thoughts carefully muddled with the dreams of a dark-haired boy, Riza allowed herself to lean back on the mattress and close her eyes. Before long, sleep claimed her. 

When she woke up from her nap, it was dark outside—but there was no telling what time it was. (She’d had to sell the grandfather clock that had been passed down from generation and generation as well). 

Her parcel! She could go downstairs and retrieve it now, her father was surely in his study. 

As Riza carefully creeped down the stairs, she glanced at her father’s study out of the corner of her eye. The light shimmering through the small crack between the floor and the door indicated that he was still awake, but her father was making more noise than usual. She heard something topple to the floor, a bit of scuffling. That was odd—her father was always quiet during his studies. 

The last thing she wanted to do was to interact with her father, but her intuition told her she needed to. 

She turned, her feet digging into the dusty carpet that led down to her father’s study, and knocked once on the door. 

“Dad?” She called out quietly. 

There was no response. 

She knocked again, this time a bit louder, inching away from the door in anticipation of an angry Berthold. 

But even then there was no answer. 

Her hand found the cool metal of the door knob, and after a moment’s hesitation, she turned it and pushed it open, the musty air of the study greeting her in a warm embrace. 

Riza blinked once, twice to adjust to the light before her eyes caught on the slumped form of her father, his head ducked, legs hanging a few feet up off the ground. The noise that she had heard must have been the chair, overturned in all its guilt. 

Riza stared up at the now lifeless form of her father and screamed. 

-

She broke her internal vow never to send a letter back to Roy, but she needed to. She kept it short. 

_ Roy,  _

_ My father is dead. Please come to the funeral, next week, on the 3rd.  _

_ Riza _

\- 

He didn’t come. 

But then again, many people didn’t.No one knew the recluse, and no one was about to start even after his passing. There were a few people from the town that Riza was on good terms with that attended, squeezing her shoulder and murmuring condolences here and there. The only person that she really didn’t mind being there was the baker, who knew wisely not to smother her with sentiments and instead placed a grounding hand on her shoulder throughout the ceremony. 

She didn’t cry at all. She kept her face smooth, devoid of emotion. She didn’t step forward and speak about him when asked to. She stayed where she was, close to the baker’s comforting presence. 

Soon, the ceremony was done, and after graciously thanking everyone who came, Riza expected to be left alone. The baker had just left with the quiet promise to come and check on her. 

“Nice funeral.” A voice sounded from behind her. Riza spun to see a woman, sharply dressed, eyeing her. She didn’t recognize her from the town.

“Thank you for attending. And I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you. How did you know my father?” Riza askedpolitely. 

The woman laughed, a quick sound. “I didn’t. I didn’t come to the funeral to pay my respects, no offense. My name is Sergeant Evans, and I came for you.”

“For me?”

“For you. Tell me, Miss Hawkeye, what are your plans for the future?”

Riza paused. She had stopped herself from thinking about this very question throughout the entire time of planning her father’s funeral, but she supposed she couldn’t run from it very long. She had little to no money, and couldn’t pursue higher schooling despite her fantastic grades. The manor was becoming close to unlivable. She had no plans, no ambitions, no dreams to follow. 

“I don’t have any.” Riza said simply. 

“What if I were to give you one?”

“Go on.”

“I’m a part of a special task force for Amestris. You are aware of the war, yes? I’m a soldier and a doctor for our country. Riza, the country is offering to teach you and put you through medical school. You’ll be completing a year of service in Ishval as well.” Evans said, folding her hands behind her back. Her features, so severe before, became sharper, more defiend. 

“You want me to…train to be a doctor for the war, while killing people for the war.”

“Essentially, yes. Your training on the war front as a basic solider is simply to make sure that we don’t put you out there without basic training. You’ll be operating as the main doctor within your platoon.”

“And the government is going to pay for all of this?”

“All of it. Not one cent will come out of your pocket.”

Riza didn’t have to wait that long to make her decision. She took the outstretched hand that Evans extended out to her, sealing her fate. 

-

On the day of her departure, She took one last look at the manor. She had sold it to some type of family in the city, one that wanted a vacation home in these trying times. Anything and everything that she had wanted to pack was neatly contained in the brown trunk next to her. 

She had said her goodbyes to the baker, who had wrapped her up in a tight hug, his kind eyes unusually misty. The parcel that he had given her with his address and various treats for her to eat was in her hands. 

Riza took one last look at the station, the railways so familiar yet so different. She had grown up here. She had lived so long of her life here, in the familiar embrace of her town. She hadn’t realized how much she’d miss her hometown until now, faced with the prospect of leaving. 

As the conductor motioned to her, immediately recognizing her pristine blue uniform that marked her as one of Amestris’ finest, Riza turned away from the landscape that had dominated so much of her younger years. With her case firmly planted in her hand, Riza ascended the train, to the next chapter of her life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. 
> 
> been a long time, y'all. 
> 
> i've been working through some very bad writer's block, but i think i'm getting through it. i'll be updating a part three to the college au and releasing a new chapter for reincarnates soon as well, so stay tuned. 
> 
> thanks for reading, let me know what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you thought! comments inspire me and motivate me to write faster!! <3
> 
> catch me on tumblr: @chai-and-coffee


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